Chapter 1: Innocence Captured

Jimmy Rankstrom methodically, soberly contemplated the problems inherent to stereotypes. For the hundredth time, he wondered what ought to be the answer; what should a normal person, an average person, do when confronted with a particular orthodox, conventional image of someone he or she has just encountered ... one who just happens to fit a particular mold? In his brief experience as a psychological professional, he’d met them, of course. One of note was a large-breasted blonde that fit the pattern of bimbo to a tee. The girl he’d encountered was intelligent. Very intelligent. Intelligent enough to figure out that meeting everyone’s expectations might just pay off if handled correctly. Jimmy had tried to talk her out of that mindset; and now, here he was, more or less doing the same sort of thing. At best, he was a hypocrite. At worse, his whole view of mankind was patently wrong.

Jimmy fit another stereotype: the tall, heavyset African American with a rich bass voice. Most large black men didn’t, of course. Have a deep basso voice, that is. Well, a couple did. James Earl Jones and Michael Clarke Duncan. That was about it. But they were enough. Folks saw his height, his size, his coloring, and they just naturally assumed the voice would go along with it. And when it did, that misconception seemed justified. So now, here he was, turning it all into cold hard cash. Just like the brilliant bimbo had done.

“Where are you going?” Beth asked him. “Why didn’t you finish getting dressed? Is that all you’re wearing? No jacket? Just that black, open-neck shirt?” She followed as he left the dressing room and mounted a set of winding stairs.

“Yeah,” he answered abstractly, climbing to the lighting platform above the stage. “This is pretty much it. There’s a cape, but it gets in the way, so I usually leave that off until the last second. I still have to spend a few more minutes on makeup, but it can wait.” He stepped aside so that she could join him in the cramped space.

“Wow,” she murmured, looking around at all the stage lights hanging from a spiderweb of chains, cables and ropes all around her, swaying rhythmically, as if perfectly choreographed, while the ship gently added its dynamic to gravity afloat. They were uncomfortably high up. This platform was obviously meant to service the various lighting devices directly over the stage. There were a lot more lights across the theater space. “Why are we up here?”

“I don’t know why you are up here,” he answered. “I’m here to prep for the performance. They’ve opened the front doors early so people can order drinks before the presentation starts. I’m up here to pick my marks before the act. You didn’t think I chose folks at random, did you?” He was silent for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged and commented without looking at him. “Better, thanks. That pill really worked. I don’t have any seasickness at all now. What are you looking for?”

“There are lots of tells. Lots of things that make a successful subject. And lots more that can cue me in about what makes a mark unsuccessful. Drunks for example. You might think that a drunk would make a good hypnosis subject; but even when they’re under, they’re just hypnotized drunks. Very unpredictable. And a pretty girl puking her guts out on stage isn’t very pretty, trust me.”

“Show me!” she ordered. “Who are you looking at?”

“Two of the three girls at table four look promising,” he said, “but not the third. She gives off a decidedly belligerent vibe. I’d either have to break them up somehow or forget them altogether.”

“Where? Which one’s table four?”

“Eleven tables per level. Table one is all the way to the left,” he answered, pointing. “The next level starts with table twelve, then twenty-three. After that, the levels get shorter. There are numbers, if you can see them. My biggest problem is accessibility. If somebody gets groggy from the opening induction, they might stumble and fall getting down to the stage. And if the seas start getting rough, it can get really tricky.”

She was silent for a while after that. He seemed to be making mental notes. Finally, she asked: “Who else?”

“I’d love to use the girl at table eleven.”

She shifted her gaze all the way to her right and steeply downward. Her breath seemed to catch. “Oh, Jimmy! She’s so ... sweet! So innocent! And she just oozes submissiveness! She’d be perfect!”

He shook his head. “Her husband gives me the willies. I don’t know why, but I find the guy abhorrent. I think I’ll steer clear.”

“You’re probably just jealous. And what makes you so sure they’re married?”

“Both wearing rings.”

“Christ! You’ve got the eyes of an eagle! I can’t even see their fingers clearly from up here.” She paused, thinking. “You should still do her. Steal her away from the guy. Take her back to our cabin and screw her brains out!”

“Think ahead, little girl. Who are you going to bunk with on this voyage after an irate husband kills me?”

“I’ve told you over and over, I’m not going to BE in the cabin. It’s all yours. Trust me, I’ll find another room for the night. I’ve already been asked by two girls in the bar, about an hour ago. And you should go for it, Jimmy! She’s perfect! Turn her into your little hypno fuck toy and...” And she gasped. And she pointed. And she said: “Oh, Jimmy! Look!”

“Where?”

“There! In the middle! What is it? Table ... seventeen, is it? All alone! All by herself! Jimmy, she’s crying!”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching her.”

“Why is she crying?”

“I’m sure there are dozens of reasons. But since she’s alone, I’m guessing THAT is why.”

“Because somebody stood her up for this theater act?” Even she knew that wasn’t very likely. He stopped scanning the crowd to give her a condescending look, and she gasped again. “You think somebody stood her up for the whole cruise?! You think she’s alone for all four days?!”

He checked his watch. “I keep telling you, think of it as three nights, not four days. And yes, that would make the most sense, given her body language, emotional state, and the fact that we just left Long Beach six hours ago.”

“Twenty minutes, doc!” a gruff voice floated up from the dressing room area.

“Thanks, Frank! I’ll be ready,” he called down.

Beth ignored the interruption. “We have to help her, Jimmy!”

“What do you mean ‘help her’? Help her how?”

“She’s crying, Jimmy! She’s in pain!” She paused a beat. “Call her up on stage as a volunteer. Once you have her under your power, we can help her!”

“‘Under my power?!’ Are you nuts? You know it doesn’t work like that! And she’s not very stage-worthy. I’ve already discounted using her.”

“Stage-worthy? Oh, Jimmy...” her voice was suddenly cold and filled with disdain. “Please tell me you aren’t talking about her not being pretty enough!”

Her tone made him very uncomfortable. “Beth, this is a stage act. There are certain ... um ... criteria.” He ground to a halt as she gave him a stern look.

But her demeanor softened, at least slightly. “She’s just as much a sub as the girl at table eleven. And there’s a killer body under that top! Get her blouse off on stage, and nobody’s going to be looking north of her tits.” She paused again, studying his expression. “And if you use her, you can have me, too.”

“What!?”

“You heard me. Not sex, obviously; but you can have me for the act. Take us both, and I’ll give in to your induction. You know I can do it. I’ve let you do it before; like at that party in Malibu. I’ll just surrender to you emotionally and let myself float away on your voice. And in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll have her talked into doing the same thing. How about it?”

Beth as a subject onstage was a temptation too great to resist. But the violation of ethics demanded a little argument, at the very least. “I can’t use my act to influence a girl’s sexual persuasion, you know that. A hypnotist is not going to turn a straight girl into a lesbian. It probably isn’t even possible. And I wouldn’t attempt it, if it was.”

“Give me a break, Jimmy! You know I would never do something like that. But just look at her! She’s barely holding it together. In her current state, she’s going to fling herself into the arms of the first guy that gives her a fumbled pickup line; and it’s going to be something she’s really going to regret later!”

He sighed heavily as she started down the spiral stairs. “And you’re really not going to hold back?” he asked. “You’re going to let me use you in the act however I want?”

“I trust you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She tossed him one last glance before she continued downward. “Just like in Malibu. Use us both, and I’m all yours.”

And she was gone.

He found himself rewriting the entire script at the last second. If Beth was up on the stage with him, it could lead to all sorts of avenues he’d never been able to consider. The vast majority of a hypnosis session was taken up with the chore of suggestibility. That’s what made the girl at table eleven so attractive. He instinctively knew that he wouldn’t be burdened by the task of establishing credulity. She would trust instinctively. She would follow. She oozed innocence. If she just didn’t have that asshole husband with her!

He spotted Beth maneuvering between the tables as she made her way toward her weeping target. When she had finally reached her goal, the plain young woman exhibited all the emotions he anticipated: mild shock, confusion, curiosity ... and then finally trust and acceptance. The tears stopped. God, Beth was good! She obviously invited herself to sit, and then did so immediately, without even the whispered possibility of rejection. The girl’s posture and countenance changed. She had been ready to throw herself sexually at the first person who expressed any interest at all. And now, something completely unexpected and awe-inspiring was offering itself as an alternative. Friendship. The possibility of finding a friend on the cruise was something she had clearly never even thought about. Oh, this was a concept so overwhelmingly attractive that she would do anything ... anything ... to make it come true.

Quickly, he completed his mental list of possible subjects for the act. He thought he had them all pegged.

But he always kept coming back to the girl at table eleven.

Dinah Melnyk reached toward her left and placed her hand atop her husband’s, pleased and only mildly surprised when he did not pull away from her. He had been acting strangely since they had boarded the ship, and she had grown too paranoid to ask again what it was she had done that had led to his standoffishness. This was their honeymoon, after all. He had at least kissed her when they had been shown to their inner cabin belowdecks; but he’d left her alone almost immediately; and she had remained solitary and isolated for two hours before he had returned, smelling of alcohol, just in time to meet the deadline for the last seating for dinner. After a time, she had finally given up trying to make conversation during the meal; but she was granted moderate solace when he had let her accompany him as he visited three more bars following the evening meal. At least it beat reading alone in their room.

The liquor seemed to have little effect on him, as if he was used to consuming monstrous quantities of the stuff. She, in turn, had sipped dutifully at the glasses of wine he purchased, but she left most her drinks unconsumed when it came time to try out the next venue. She couldn’t help but notice how he frequently checked his watch; and he made sure that they were the first in line for the big stage show, arriving a full forty-five minutes prior to the midnight curtain call, despite his having pre-arranged for tickets to the performance.

She wasn’t sure what to make of all the signs and notices outside the theater entrance. In fact, she wasn’t sure what to make of the entire cruise. She hadn’t put it all together until they were actually boarding. The “four-day-three-night excursion” to Ensenada was apparently billed both as a “couples cruise” and a “carefree exploration for sensual, consenting adults.” Warning signs at the auditorium door bespoke “sexual content” that was strictly for adults only. The burly gentleman at the entrance who checked their ID’s issued them a key that fit one of the lockers lining the foyer. He instructed them that ALL electronic devices were banned from the theater proper. She had even left her e-reader entombed there.

The principal act was being performed by “The Famous Doctor Murmez,” Master of the Sensuous Mind, Purveyor of Titillating Fantasies, and Grand Virtuoso of Amatory Interplay; who would help the audience better understand their innermost erotic needs, and learn to surrender to their most profound prurient desires and basest animal urges.

Dinah couldn’t even begin to imagine what all that meant. Sex, obviously. She and Ivan had done it twice in the past three months, but she still felt as if she knew practically nothing about the act. They would most certainly do it tonight though. This had been their wedding day, and so sex would be a requirement, surely. In just a couple more hours, they would be doing it. She was an adult, after all. Her twenty-one years of life declared it outright. Her ID card proved it was true, and that big guy at the door had certainly studied hers carefully, making doubly-sure that it was indeed a fact. So, why did she feel like a little girl in a very large room of people who all looked and acted like adults?

The place was almost full, the noise generated by more than a hundred voices nearly deafening, all raised to be better-heard above the din. But the cacophony lessened slightly when a door beside the stage opened and a pretty girl emerged. And oh, what a girl she was! Dinah had never seen such an erotically attractive female. Since she had come from somewhere near the stage, many in the crowd probably assumed that she signaled the start of the production, but it soon became clear that she was just another spectator who had somehow wound up behind a door marked “Employees Only” by mistake. However, the continuation of the minor hush that descended on the room was for another reason altogether. Dinah sudden realized that she wished that the girl might look her way ... might make eye contact. And, of course, that was the wish of practically every person who had seen her. The young woman had a thick mane of chestnut hair that bounced and swung with every movement she made, caressing the shoulders that were left bare by the halter dress she wore. And her body did make movements. Oh, yes, it did. But the girl’s attention never strayed. It remained riveted on her destination, which was apparently a table near the middle of the seating area.