Chapter 1: The Eyes Have It

CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENT 217 - DAY 1

Isn’t it odd how, when we have lived with a habit or disability for a long time, they cease to have the hold on our thoughts and consciousness that they once did? So it became with my “malady.” In the day-to-day course of my life, I was just an average man going about his business in the eyes of those around me; and after a long while, I sort of thought that way about myself ... even though I knew better, deep down inside. I was capable of acts no ordinary person would even think about perpetrating.

Oh, I suppose others DID know, or at least a few of them did. Loretta knew, of course; but she didn’t count. She was in love with me, and love invalidates all judgments. Rory Johnson, the carpenter and building supervisor who lived in the basement of our building, had seen me in action once; so he knew, though he didn’t seem to think it worth mentioning. I wasn’t too sure about his live-in girlfriend, Lauren. Pretty bright girl, Lauren. Actually, there should have been a comma there. Pretty, bright. Very much so in both departments. Rory might have told her ... I mean, they WERE lovers, after all. But, once again, if she knew, she didn’t seem to hold my sickness against me personally.

My clients knew, of course. Not my patients, but my clients ... the ones who were actually LOOKING for a mad evil doctor to do the things which they lacked the professional competence or backbone to do themselves. They, of course, didn’t count either.

But, then along comes someone who puts it all in perspective. And so it was that day, when Daphne, the guilty, green-eyed witch came to me, leading her trusting, innocent sex slave, Simone.

She walked into my office unannounced and without knocking, which sort of pissed me off, though she was right on time for the appointment she had made. Loretta ALWAYS announced my patients, and it didn’t make sense that she would fail to do so in this case; but Loretta herself was third in line in the procession that paraded in, even if she did so blushing furiously and with downcast eyes. The middle girl of the group was small, petite and cute. That’s how I think most people would describe her. One guy might say: “Look at those girls over there. I really like one of them.” And his buddy would ask: “Which one?” And the guy would reply: “The cute one.” And the second guy would know which one he meant. Cute.

And that leads me to a description of the witch herself. Alright, I don’t know why I thought that word when I first saw her ... or why the concept seemed to manifest itself as the first five seconds of our meeting progressed while she approached my desk with outstretched right hand. She was tall and rather stout, and she carried herself with authority ... the type of person who could demand attention when she called for it. The black and blue pants suit she wore was tailored perfectly, so as not to accentuate her bulk, but rather draw attention to her bust, which was perhaps the best physical feature she had below her nose. Her hair was so black that it seemed to reflect a faint purple, the lowest color in the visible spectrum, but she had a small shock of purest white just above her forelock. I would not have called her very pretty; but, now that I thought about it, she wouldn’t have been referred to as unattractive, either. And yet, due to one attribute in particular (yes, the one above her nose), she was not to be ignored. Her eyes practically radiated a bright, deep green, and as she got closer, I saw that her irises had what I would call a starburst pattern that drew a person’s attention toward their centers, which were black and fathomless.

I thought about sex. And, that was odd, because I wasn’t thinking about sex with HER; I was just thinking about sex in general. Perhaps it was Loretta’s submissive posture ... or Little Miss Cute in the middle of the group, who was also exuding sexually obedient behavior (or was that just my imagination?). As I stood to take her hand, I wanted desperately to adjust the overly-tight front of my trousers, but I steadfastly refused to either look down or shift my weight.

“Good afternoon, doctor,” she said, shaking my hand the way a man would, firmly. “Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice. I am Daphne Ludwig.”

I tried to return her smile without letting it reflect my confused feelings. “I would like to take credit for that, but Loretta arranged for the appointment. I believe there might have been a cancellation. Loretta also announces my patients. Usually, that is.”

She let go of my hand and took a small step back. “Please, that was entirely my fault. Don’t be cross with her. I was trying to make a point.”

I let my smile slip and replaced my features with unabashed scrutiny. “I couldn’t be cross with Loretta if I tried,” I told her flatly. “Also, I am completely unaware of why you are here, or whether it is to be a group session.”

She smiled almost sadly and sighed. “Again, doctor, I am at fault for the rather unorthodox manner of our meeting. Please, I beg you, let me explain why.” She turned and put her hand on her pixyish friend’s arm. “This is my very good friend, Simone Roderick. I brought her in here, along with your lovely nurse, to demonstrate my little ... um ... problem.” At the mention of “very good friend,” her companion lowered her eyes, smiled hugely, and blushed; her complexion now matching Loretta’s almost exactly.

I huffed a small laugh, letting my tension recede a little, and I again tried not to think about my erection. “Alright,” I said, “you’ve got me. I love a mystery. Won’t you ... all be seated?” I motioned toward the chair at the side of the room while glancing at Loretta, and she took it, though she wasn’t looking at me. Daphne led little Simone to the couch and they both sat there, leaving the big chair in front of my desk vacant. Again, I was taken aback by something out of the ordinary, but simply shrugged and sat down myself.

“Doctor Herringwick,” she said immediately, jumping right in, “I was at a party over the weekend...” She paused. “I go to a lot of parties. In point of fact, it’s how I earn my living; but we can get to that later. Anyway, I was at this party, and I met a man named Justin Ardly. I believe you’ve met him?” She didn’t let me comment, rushing on after seeing me start to nod. “I think he would have talked about butterflies and moths forever, but I changed the topic. I have this knack for leading a conversation in the direction I want it to go. We talked about his pretty wife, who is so pregnant that she looks like she’s about to pop. And, after awhile, that train of conversation seemed to lead to you, and how you helped him ... um ... achieve his goals in life.” She held up her hand before I could issue the angry comment I had intended. “Please, doctor. Don’t blame Mr. Ardly for breaking a personal confidence. Believe me when I tell you that it was not his intention to bring up his relationship with you. In point of fact, he has no recollection of doing so.”

That last sentence stopped me cold. “No recollection?”

“Before I get into what brought me here, I need to do a little demonstration. I promise you that it will be a small, innocent thing. Will you allow it?”

I sat back in my chair and swiveled it slightly, left and right, as I thought. Finally, I made a small gesture with my right hand, inviting her to go ahead.

She turned to the smaller woman beside her, and young Simone automatically turned as well, facing her companion. “I need to show him, dear. Don’t resist, okay?”

The girl blinked. “Here? But, why, Daphne?” She looked imploringly up into the woman’s eyes.

“Don’t argue, dear. And don’t resist. Now, relax. Just relax. That’s it. Very good. Be sleepy for me now. Excellent.” Little Simone’s eyes almost immediately lost focus. Her lips had parted, obviously with the intention of forming further words, but they were seemingly lost in her mind, along with all other thoughts, and her mouth now was slack, her expression blank. “Sleep now, my darling,” the woman ordered softly, and she reached up and grasped the girl by she shoulders, gently settling her unconscious body back into the cushions of the couch.

Without pausing to consider her handiwork, the woman rose and walked to Loretta’s chair. Nervously, automatically, my nurse rose and faced her. “And now it’s your turn, dear,” she said.

“I ... I ... no. Please, no.”

Daphne’s head canted slightly to the left, questioning. “But ... you want this. You want it. Why are you saying no?”

“I love him. I love him SO much. Please don’t take it away. Don’t make me want you instead. Please.”

The woman took a brief look in my direction. “The doctor, you mean? I would never take away your love for him. In fact, would you like to love him even more?”

Loretta’s head started to turn toward me, but she couldn’t break eye contact with the woman in front of her, so she allowed her face to resume its position. “I ... I don’t think that’s possible.” She sighed. “You can do that?”

“Relax for me now. Yes. Very good. Be sleepy for me. Feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. Your arms, too. So heavy. You can’t hold them up. Just let them fall. Excellent. Now, tell me what you want, girl.”

“Please make me sleep,” Loretta pleaded dully. “Please make me love him ... even more.”

“Sleep, dear,” she ordered. She reached out with both arms, one around the small of her back, while her other hand went to the back of her head, and she pulled my nurse’s unresisting body against her own body, supporting her. “Very good, dear. Go deeper now. Twice as deep. Now, twice as deep again. Very good. Now, stand up, please, and look into my eyes.”

Loretta stepped back away from her and opened her eyes. The two women were of equal height, and their gaze was level. “I have heard that you are about to start renting out apartments in this building, is that right, dear?”

A big smile blossomed on my nurse’s face. “Yes. Rory is about to make all the code applications for the first one. Are you thinking about renting?”

“Look at Simone, please, dear. Yes, that’s it. The more you get to know her, the more you will realize that you would love to be her friend. She’s a wonderful individual. You would really like to show her around your building.”

Loretta was suddenly excited. “Can I introduce her to Lauren? I know Lauren would like her too!”

Daphne nodded. “Certainly. I’m sure you will all just love each other. Take all the time you want showing her around. Oh, and speaking of love, you have never felt more love for your doctor than you will when you wake up. Do that now, please.” And she snapped her fingers loudly.

Loretta blinked, suddenly reanimating after her hypnotic nap. She glanced longingly toward me for a moment, then said: “Miss Ludwig, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to say something to my ... uh ... to the doctor.” And she strode around the desk to me as I pushed my chair back and stood. She threw her arms around my neck and plastered her body against mine.

“Doctor ... Randy ... I love you,” she whispered into my ear.

I worked my arms up and grasped her by the shoulders, pushing her back slightly. “What? Did you just call me by my name?”

She pushed her head forward again and nuzzled my neck. “I love you SO much!” she mumbled. Then she shifted her lower tummy from side to side against my crotch. “Ooooh. And I think you want me, too, a little.” She ground herself against me again. “I can’t wait until we’re alone after work!”

I pushed her gently away from me. “Nurse, please!” I said in a fake, too-loud voice. “Try to control yourself!” But I smiled brightly at her, and she laughed gaily.

As we turned back toward the center of the room, we observed that Daphne was now on the couch again, whispering something in her companion’s ear. She, in turn, opened her eyes and stretched animatedly, her arms over her head and her chest arching forward while she yawned immensely, smiling as she awoke from her little nap. They both rose, Simone standing calmly as her taller companion put her arm around her, and they faced us.

“Tell the doctor what you’d like to do now, dear,” the woman urged gently.

I could see the thought burst into the younger lady’s mind, her eyes sparkling. “Can Loretta ... and her friend ... show me around the building now? Please, Daphne? Can we?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, darling. The doctor and I need to discuss something, anyway. Off you go now, both of you!”

Loretta rushed around the desk to the smaller girl; and, hand-in-hand, without another word being spoken, they left the office, closing the door behind them. Daphne drifted over to the chair in front of my desk and settled herself, facing me.

Frowning slightly, I sat. “That was quite a performance.”

“But inconclusive.”

I nodded. “Your ... um ... young thrall has obviously been conditioned.”

“As has Loretta,” she replied. “I hadn’t anticipated that ... you having a thrall of your own.” She paused a beat. “I had actually never thought of using that word, but I suppose it’s ... accurate. And, I imagine you’re right. My little demonstration has been rendered moot.”

I regarded her with all the scrutiny I could muster. Her eyes were distracting, to say the least. “And what had you intended to demonstrate? That you are capable of imposing a degree of mind control over those around you? I’m sorry, but I deal only in scientific actuality, not speculative psychological conjecture. The imposition of a stronger will over a weaker one is not evidence of...”

She held up her hand to silence me. “I was not trying to prove anything of the sort, doctor, believe me. The world uses too many terms for things that are only concepts: mind controller, hypnotist, strong-willed, weak-willed. Thrall.” She shrugged. “I don’t care. Such terms hold no meaning for me. I only know that I’ve taken this condition, and I’ve...” She paused and looked at me, obviously wondering if she needed to explain something.

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name of the syndrome,” I confessed. “A German name. Starts with a ‘W.’”

She smiled. “Waardenburg Syndrome. Very good, doctor.”

“Forgive me, but I thought that resulted in pale blue eyes.”

She nodded. “Or eyes of different colors, like one brown eye and one blue. Yes. However, I was blessed with a trifecta of genetic abnormalities. Heterochromia iridum, or irises that radiate their color outward; and that little gene deficiency usually comes in green. And then, there’s distichiasis. Ever heard of that one?” She paused while I shook my head. “A double row of eye lashes, blended together, making them double-thick, sometimes called the ‘Elizabeth Taylor Syndrome,’ because she was the most famous person with that condition. They are each very rare. I wouldn’t doubt it all if I were the only person in the world with all three.”

I winced with sudden understanding. I almost made a comment about that, but I chose to remain silent. She picked up on it, though.

“Yes. You’ve just realized that there are other little ... gifts ... that usually come with genetic disorders. I’ve had two surgeries to repair heart valve defects; which, fortunately, have done their work, though I have to take daily medications. My mouth is too broad, my nose too small.” She shrugged. “I don’t really care. People can overlook plain facial features. But ... they cannot ignore my eyes. Ever.”

“And you’ve ... used that to your advantage.”

Again she shrugged her shoulders, making her breasts bounce. My erection, which had abated to some extent, was back.

“Do you believe The Bard was right, doctor? Or whoever actually said it ... Do you think they are the windows to the soul? Do you think I am capable of letting you see my thoughts and feelings by letting you look into them?”

I didn’t answer, but I took her challenge and gazed directly into the centers of those spectacular orbs. I used every ounce of my willpower to keep my features stern and professional, and I felt that I was maintaining that facade ... until my cock jerked and throbbed, seemingly of its own accord. Still, I kept my face in its deadpan mask.

But she knew. And she smiled. “It’s not control on my part, doctor. It’s nothing mystical or paranormal. In fact, I think it’s perfectly natural. People look into one another’s eyes, and they know things ... they sense things. They communicate. Joy. Sadness. Distrust. Longing. Waardenburg Syndrome can cause increased brain activities and emotional states. It’s that way with me. I think about sex. I think about it almost all the time. It’s with me constantly. Always. I’ve learned to live with it, but it’s not that way with everyone else. THEY don’t think that way, nor do they have to live with those thoughts ... until they look into my eyes. I believe that I communicate those feelings; I pass them on to others; all through my eyes.”