Chapter 6

"It was a good, actually great audience for a Wednesday, Roger. I'm glad we decided to do early shows on Wednesdays instead of Sunday matinees."

Darlene sat at a small table counting money. Roger was across the room nursing another scotch.

"Maybe two, three empty seats in the entire house," Darlene continued, "and, at premium prices too... people will pay most anything to see a real naughty sex show, especially one with audience participation, amateurs instead of pros. Go figure."

"Yep, they will."

"In the old days, when the show just included 'regular' behaviors... god, remember all those cruise ship shows... I hated living in those fucking tiny staterooms. Anyway, those tame, clean shows made us nothing but tired... no money at all."

"Yep."

"We have a good thing going here, my dear... a very good thing... a way for us to retire like real people."

Roger, with feet propped on a dingy old ottoman, glanced around the ancient cluttered dressing room and wondered just how good things truly were. He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He had a lot invested in the show now. He stretched his arms back and smiled. The smile was fleeting though. Soon his furrowed brow returned.

"Yes, the show's going good, but it's fucking dangerous. If the cops ever get a complaint and sneak someone in here, we're fucked." Roger laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. His arrest phobia caused reoccurring nocturnal visions of him being led from the club in handcuffs.

"Hey, stop worrying. We're screening the customers and all the subjects sign releases. In the releases, they agree to everything. They have no legal ground to stand on if they wanted to sue, so don't worry about it."

"The law is not that simple, Darlene. But, looking on the bright side, I was very glad to find that Mrs. Smith suffered no ill effects from our would-be assassin the other evening. She is a great subject... a perfect subject. Did you see her going after that new guy's ass with her tongue... man... what a sight! She must have all sorts of pent up sexuality deep in her little weird psyche. Even I got horny watching that one."

Just then there was a very loud knock at the dressing room door followed by the sound of a doorknob turning.

"What the hell..."

Words were still emerging from Darlene's open mouth when the door burst open and there stood Ken Smith holding a pistol.

"That's 50 bucker... ," shouted Roger.

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Ken as he made sure for the hundredth time that his newly purchased earplugs were firmly in place. "Don't say a word or I will fucking blow you away right now."

Ken waved the gun menacingly at Darlene and then tossed a roll of duct-tape on the table in front of her. The pile of bills in front of her erupted like a pile of maple leaves under the feet of a child at play.

"Lady, tear off strips and put them over both your mouths... right now... or I will use this gun. And, you better believe that I know how to use it... I am a fucking Marine."

Darlene quickly obeyed and placed shiny silver strips of duct-tape over Roger's mouth, then hers.

"Now I want some questions answered," shouted Ken as he slammed the door behind him. "Just nod... don't utter a sound. Understand?"

Roger nodded wide-eyed. Darlene's eyes flashed with anger.

"I know that you have been using my wife in your act for weeks, right? And I know that you have had her doing all sorts of obscene acts with other men, right? So, you had better believe one thing right now... I could kill right here and now... and no jury in the country would find me guilty after they heard what you have done to my poor wife... and to me."

Ken saw Darlene's eyes dart around the room.

"Listen, bitch, don't get any ideas. Pull your chairs together and turn them toward me. Darlene, isn't it... duct-tape one of your arms and one of his to the chair's arm... yeah, that's it. Do it up tight."

Darlene did as she was told. After a moment, Ken inspected the tape and decided that at least they wouldn't be able to move easily.

"Now let's review, shall we? You have been taking advantage of innocent people without their knowledge and have been making them do lewd and lascivious acts in public... against their will... and for profit. This is so outrageous and grotesque that angry citizens like me might form a lynch mob or something and come after the both of you. I can't decide whether to turn you over to the police right now or just kill you and save wear and tear on the legal system. Do you get my drift?"

Roger mumbled a response through the duct-tape.

"If you need to say something, you had better write it down," said Ken.

Roger shrugged and pointed to his taped hand in a gesture of futility.

"Shit," said Ken.

Ken quickly taped Roger's other arm to the chair, then produced a pen knife from his pocket and cut through the bindings on Roger's writing hand.

"I will fucking shoot you both if you try anything," shouted Ken.

Roger waved his freed hand as if to say "no problem."

"Now I have some questions... was my wife under hypnosis when she did those horrible things on stage... kissing another man's asshole and all that?"

Roger looked wide-eyed again this time at Darlene and then nodded, "yes."

"She didn't know she was doing any of that? I mean she was unconscious, as it were, so she was totally unaware, right?"

Roger shook his head, "yes."

"Have you had her doing other things than what I saw last night? Has she been the one to suck off a guy or get fucked doggy-style right there on stage?"

Roger's eye brows went up, he looked knowingly at Darlene and then he quietly nodded, "yes."

"Jesus!" screamed Ken. "You fucking bastards!"

Roger and Darlene flashed glances at each other, but their primary attention was directed toward the barrel of the large pistol Ken brandished.

Without warning, Ken began to laugh. Darlene and Roger's fearful demeanors changed to looks of bewilderment. Ken positively roared with laughter. Finally, he regained enough composure to speak.

"You know the irony of all this?" Ken said between guffaws. "My wife won't even do any of that stuff with me! Yet, you have her doing... doing everything. Jesus, I can't believe it. Well, that's going to change. Here's what I want in return for letting you live... I want my wife out of the show... completely. But, I want to still be able to use hypnosis on her in the future."

Roger's eyes twinkled with new life. He looked knowingly at Darlene. The hypnotist and his assistant now had arrived at familiar territory... another greedy husband.

Roger grabbed the pen that Darlene had been using in her financial calculations and wrote, "ok," on a notepad.

"And I want to know everything!" added Ken.

Roger nodded.

It took Roger a very long time to write everything down. Ken kept interrupting the written discourse with questions. Finally, Roger was able to explain that Beth and all the rest of his "subjects" were chosen because they were highly impressionable and could be induced into a state much like total meditation in yoga. Those who meditated deepest or whose minds often wandered into deep day-dreaming were the best subjects because they could be trained to remember or forget at the will of the hypnotist. The most prized subjects, like Beth, were those who could be led into such a hypnotic state by a single trigger phrase. Those like Beth also could be trained to react to complicated sets of self-induced triggers that conjured up impressions so seemingly real that the subject could not separate implanted impressions from genuine reality.