The Speak-easy Lady (part II)

I'm a magician. Really! One of the few female magicians doing the circuit--clubs and bars and private parties. The business isn't what it used to be once upon a time. Television, I think, has spoiled it. But then, everybody in show business says that!

I come from a line of stage magicians. My father's father was the first. "The Great Harold", he called himself. Not a great name I always thought. Still, the clippings and articles my father kept of him showed that he obviously did very well.

My father, not unreasonably, followed in his father's footsteps. He just called himself, "Johnson". Seemed a little more, hmmm, dramatic, maybe.

My father entered the business when it was already starting to decline after the heady vaudeville days. He always used to say to me that if you still wanted to get the bookings you needed to be able to do lots of things. Just like an actor. If all you can do is act you just get plays. If you can sing as well you can also get musicals. If you can dance... and so on.

So my father did the full bit: magician, escape artist, hypnotist and mind reader. And he always had work.

When my mother died he cut down on circuit work a little so that we could stay longer in each place. He wanted me to have have regular schooling but we still ended up moving around a fair bit. I don't think this hurt my education.

There was no way that some of what my father did could avoid rubbing off on me. I was often at his shows and often helped when he was preparing a new trick or when he was trying something new out at home. And I enjoyed what he did. He taught me little tricks and things and, I particularly remember, when I had my thirteenth birthday, when other girls were getting clothes and makeup, he gave me the large wooden box and the saw for "cutting the woman in half". I spent the next weeks "cutting" all my friends and anyone else I could talk into it in half!

I picked up a lot of my father's tricks. I even started hypnotising friends from school. It turned out I had quite a knack for it. I was able to get most people that I tried it on into a trance in just a few minutes. Most of them quite deep. Dad watched me a few times and he thought that it was mainly on account of my voice.

Once I reached sixteen (and my quite ample figure had developed) I became part of the act. "Johnson and his beautiful assistant", we became. I was naturally "beautiful assistant". The skimpy costumes I wore and my looks helped the business and we had a great time together. Around that time I also started getting pretty good at handling the "groupies", the guys that used to hang around after the show at the back of the club or theatre that tried to pick me up.

So I was going to school during the day and then on stage at night. It was hard work sometimes, but dad encouraged me. Later, when I got older, we started doing a double act. He'd do the magic (I could never coordinate my hands enough to get away with all of the tricks) and I'd do a hypnosis routine. Strangely, I had lots of guys volunteering. Something I never thought about at the beginning, but then, as I became more "sexually aware", I realized that it might be something in them wanting to be under the control of a beautiful woman.

In fact, one guy that I picked up one night came straight out and told me that he liked the idea--it turned him on--of being hypnotised by me and then having sex. I thought he was a little strange but I tried it on him. It turned out to be surprisingly good. Hypnotising him was routine, but once he was in a trance I got my way for a change and got all the touching, caressing and rubbing I'd wanted but had never got from guys that were always "two-second wonders".

I tried it a couple of times after that with different guys and it was always good. And, I admit it, I did enjoy having these guys under my control. Maybe this was why I ended up doing the hypnosis act instead of my father: because it turned me on subconsciously.

Once my father retired I took over the rest of the business. The club and theatre managers all knew me and knew that I was good so I didn't have trouble getting bookings. I visited my father whenever I was in his area. He'd found himself a nice house and had set up the enormous library I knew he'd always wanted. And each time I visited he just had to pull a handkerchief out of my ear before asking me how business was going.

I had trouble keeping boyfriends. Being on the road doesn't lend itself to long relationships. I was never lacking in "sexual attention". Whenever I wanted a man I'd just pick up one of the "stage door groupies" that were always waiting after the show.

One month I was staying in a city where I had some friends. They'd lent me their second house (it's luxury having a house to yourself when most of the year you live out of hotel rooms!) and, apart from the shows, it was almost like being on holidays. I loved this city. Maybe I'd settle down here when I retired from the biz.

One evening, after I'd finished the show, I decided to stop off, on the way back to the house, in a little bar I passed in the car each day. I pulled over and wandered in. It was pretty quiet.

I was wearing one of my "man catchers" - a long and tight black dress that showed off my figure very nicely, thank you. I wouldn't have minded some company that evening. Still, the bar looked dead. It didn't look like I was going to have any luck. Well, I thought, I've still got my vibrator at home. Ever faithful.

I sat down at the bar and ordered a coke. Did I mention that I'm a teetotaller? I "caught" it from my father. He never drank either. It's really by choice, though. I tried drinking when I was younger but even the smallest drink messed up the show no end. Stuffed my coordination right up. So I got into the habit of not drinking at all.

After a while I turned away from the bar and looked around again. A little tacky, I thought. And then I noticed a guy in a booth up the back. He was looking at me. The way a guy looks at a woman when he wants her not to be wearing any clothes, you know?

I looked back. From where I sat he looked like a bit of a hunk. Short hair, angular face; muscular, too. Looked like a possibility. But then, after a few seconds, he just seemed to lose interest. I decided not to let this chance go. I'd much prefer him than the vibrator (sorry, vibrator, you know I care but ...)

I turned back to bar, finished my coke and wandered over to his table. He didn't hear me come up but after a few seconds his eyes swung over from the back of the booth, where he'd been staring, slowly over to my hips and then worked their way up to my face, with a long pause on my tits.

"Can I join you?", I asked. He didn't say anything but nodded towards the bench opposite him.

We started to speak, or I started to speak. Getting anything out of him was hard work. It wasn't that he seemed reluctant to talk. It was more that there wasn't anything to get out. I decided that he was not all that bright. He was, however, better looking than I'd first thought. Much better, and a little unshaven. A bit of a shadow there. I always liked that. It seemed so masculine... rough.

There was one thing he was interested in. Very interested. And that was my chest. It didn't embarrass me but he was obviously, plainly staring.

The conversation wasn't going anywhere and the hope for some intelligent and sexy company for the evening had evaporated. At least the "intelligent" had. Maybe the "sexy" could be salvaged. I decide to try and hypnotise the guy. It didn't look like he was going to make a move. His name was probably Mr Dullsville. His only redeeming feature seemed to be his body and I decided I was going to have it.

But I needed some way to get him into a trance. I decided my best bet would be to get him to look at my amber pendant. If I could get him to look at it long enough "the voice" that every hypnotist develops should do the rest.

With difficulty I managed to drag his attention up the few centimetres to the pendant. I talked about it, mostly made-up rubbish, to arouse his interest in it, and then I slowly guided him into a trance. Part of the way through he seemed to realise what was happening to him and tried to fight it but he was too far gone and I was too experienced to let him go.

It didn't take me more than fifteen minutes to get him into a really deep trance. I didn't need to test how deep he was. After all the practice I've had I could tell straight away. Once he was under I just dived straight in the deep end and told him to get up, pay his bill and leave with me.

It was a piece of cake. He just got up, looking like he was awake, went over to the bar, paid his bill, then pulled on his jacket as he met me at the door. Looking closely I could see that slightly, glazed look that all hypnotised people have. I don't think the bar-man would have noticed.

I led the guy to my car and told him to get in. As we drove off I got him to relax a bit more and I deepened the trance. When we got to the house I led him inside and left him in the hall while I went into the bedroom and stripped. Then I came back out and led my "slave" into the dining room. This is a great room with deep, thick, warm carpet. Ideal for some "wide-ranging" fun.

I got him to strip. His figure was a real turn on. He looked like he did weights or something. There was no extra fat here! His cock looked rather a little small and I started to think that maybe the vibrator could have been a better idea, but then I gave him the command to have a hard-on and my worries disappeared. What sprang out was, no other word can describe it, heavenly! I stroked his cock and balls. His cock was sooo hard. I felt my pussy getting very wet and I couldn't help thinking that this was going to be a fun evening after all.

The devil in me decided that this guy could be fun to watch as a dog. I told him he was a dog and he got down and his hands and knees, running around and barking. His cock was still stiff as a board and I couldn't help laughing at the sight of this stiff-cocked guy sniffing at the furniture legs.

After a minute or so I got him back off the floor and fondled him a little more. He only reacted when I told him. It was clear that he was right under. I could do whatever I wanted with him.

I got down on the floor and got him to start rubbing my shoulders. I wondered how long his cock would stay up. I kept checking it every couple of minutes (not an unpleasant task!) but it was always there - standing at attention. A little squeeze of it every now and then helped keep my pussy wet.

Then I got him to caress my breasts. I love that. Most guys just squeeze, but my little "slave" caressed me just the way I told him to. Then I told him to lick my nipples. I was really turned on by this stage and enjoying every second, but then, when his lips touched my nipples I almost exploded. I even had an orgasm, just a little one, then and there. I was so hot I could hardly stop myself telling him to get on top of me and let me feel his beautiful cock inside of me but I wanted this pleasure to continue a while longer.

I got him to rub my clit, nice and gently; and then a little harder. Having his tongue on a nipple and his fingers on my clit was driving me wild. Finally I couldn't take it any more and I told him to get on top of me and fuck me. And it felt so good feeling his huge (and still very stiff) cock slipping into me.

And as he thrusted I just let myself go even more, enjoying the rhythm and the pushing. I told him not to come yet - I didn't want this to end too soon. I came a few times in that position. There are still luxuries in life for the ordinary working girl, I thought to myself.

I wondered, briefly, if he was getting tired, but then I thought, he's in trance. He'll keep going as long as I want.

After a while I decide to change position. I got him to stand up. Then I leaned over the dining-room table and got him to fuck me from behind. Aaaah! More luxury and more orgasms.

Finally I let him come inside me. It was a nice pleasant way to finish it all off. I kept him inside me for a while after that, savouring the feeling, finally pulling away as his cock started to sag (after I don't know how many minutes, hours?)

I looked him up and down again. Very nice, I thought. It's a real shame that he's not very bright.

I started to feel wetness running down my legs. I took my "slave" into one of the bathrooms and told him to clean himself up. I took myself into the other, washed myself and then got dressed again. It was time to take the guy back.

He was just standing in the bathroom when I got back to him. Apparently he'd finished washing and, as I hadn't given him anything else to do, he was just standing, waiting.

I took him back into the dining room and had him dress. Then I led him back to the car and took him back to outside the bar where this had all started. I told him to get out of the car and that as I drove away he'd wake up from the trance I'd put him in. As I pulled away and turned the corner I saw him shake his head. I knew he was awake again. I wondered how much he remembered.

As I drove back home I still felt a rosy warmth inside me. The warmth that I always get after a really, really nice fuck. And I thought to myself that it hadn't turned out a dull evening after all.