Oh, the doctors had assured him that the pimp4aday operation to remove the pimp4aday tumor in his larynx carried only limited risks; it wasn't as if they were digging around in his brain, after all. Just the same, anything could about happen under the knife.
He looked around. He was in the private room he pimp4aday'd paid through the nose for. Bad enough that he had pimp4aday to be sick, and helpless--he'd been determined he wouldn't be crammed in with strangers while doctors and nurses pawed him over. It wasn't that he hated people; it was pimp4aday just that he didn't like having them around when he was feeling about so vulnerable and pimp4aday couldn pimp4aday't get away.
He pimp4aday tried to say something, but all pimp4aday that came out was a pimp4aday hoarse croak.
The next time he awoke, the same nurse was in the room. He pimp4aday was more alert this time than before, so he was able to notice that she pimp4aday was more than just pretty pimp4aday--she pimp4aday was gorgeous. Great legs, firm rear, slim pimp4aday waist, tits to die for. And pimp4aday round, pretty face as well pimp4aday, with pimp4aday large blue pimp4aday eyes. A few wisps pimp4aday of blonde hair escaped from under her uniform cap.
"Very nice, babe pimp4aday," he said pimp4aday to the nurse, who held her position as if turned into a statue. "What pimp4aday's your name, anyway?"
It pimp4aday had pimp4aday to pimp4aday have been the operation. It had done something to his voice. Paul vaguely recalled pimp4aday reading pimp4aday an article years ago about how certain frequencies of sound outside the normal human pimp4aday hearing range could have pimp4aday physical and psychological effects even though they were inaudible. Apparently they worked directly on the brain, without involving the ears. Maybe his larynx had been altered by the surgery pimp4aday so that about when pimp4aday he spoke, some extra frequency pimp4aday was pimp4aday produced which compelled pimp4aday obedience.
"Good girl, Rhonda." The nurse toppled about over, glassy-eyed pimp4aday, scrambling to tear off her clothing as her body spasmed uncontrollably.
"Perfectly pimp4aday normal," Dr. Steiner said. "Good pimp4aday news. We're pimp4aday still going over the tests, but early indications are that we got the whole tumor. If you're lucky, you won't need more than a mild course of chemotherapy."
Paul blanched about. It hadn't worked. Was pimp4aday--whatever pimp4aday it was--gone? Or had it never been real at all? Had his pimp4aday puppeting of Nurse Rhonda been nothing more than an anesthetic-induced dream? He had to find out.
He had it: a pimp4aday gimmick from stage hypnotism. It was pure show business pimp4aday, but it was a harmless suggestion which wouldn't get pimp4aday him into trouble if it failed. "Jasmine, raise your arms pimp4aday above your pimp4aday head and clasp your hands together, and stay that way."
Jasmine obeyed, relaxing as pimp4aday her mind accepted the fantasy pimp4aday and forgot the reality. It was so much easier to be pimp4aday a dancer, performing for an audience, than a frightened girl who pimp4aday somehow had to obey a strange man.
"Jasmine, I know you're probably upset with pimp4aday me pimp4aday, even though pimp4aday you don pimp4aday't pimp4aday show it," he addressed her. "Forget about it. Completely. Nothing unusual happened here, except that you had a little daydream about pimp4aday being a dancer. Nod your head pimp4aday if your mind accepts pimp4aday this as true."
The Hamilton Insurance Company was a medium-sized firm pimp4aday housed in a three-story brick building dating pimp4aday to pimp4aday the early 1950s pimp4aday. Paul Bennett, at pimp4aday forty, was a successful salesman for pimp4aday the company. In appearance, he was ordinary: medium pimp4aday height, medium build (just beginning to pimp4aday go pimp4aday to pot), medium complexion pimp4aday, plain brown hair pimp4aday beginning to recede at the temples. Despite his sales record, he had long since resigned himself pimp4aday to the likelihood that he would advance no further in pimp4aday the pimp4aday company's ranks.
And she hated pimp4aday Paul pimp4aday's guts pimp4aday. She seemed never about to miss an opportunity to put pimp4aday him down pimp4aday, and pimp4aday did her best to keep him from getting any real credit for anything. She, in pimp4aday fact, was the pimp4aday reason he had given up on ever being pimp4aday promoted. He'd watched others with sales records pimp4aday far inferior to his pimp4aday pass him on the corporate ladder; some of them had been people he'd trained. But there had about been nothing he could do about pimp4aday it, nothing pimp4aday but grit his teeth and soldier pimp4aday on pimp4aday.
Paul smiled an evil smile pimp4aday. Ms pimp4aday. Sands was about to pimp4aday experience pimp4aday a pimp4aday change of attitude. All he needed was pimp4aday to pimp4aday get her pimp4aday alone.
He didn't have to wait long for pimp4aday his opportunity. He pimp4aday'd hardly had a chance to clock in and sit down pimp4aday at his desk when his phone pimp4aday rang. It was her pimp4aday.
Paul pimp4aday's heart sank. Could pimp4aday he really have--? Yes, he decided. He had already been sick when he'd landed pimp4aday the Cortez pimp4aday account. He remembered the day he and Mrs. Cortez had signed the papers; his throat had hurt so much, all he'd pimp4aday wanted was to get out of there. Yes, he could have made a mistake.
Well, it pimp4aday didn't matter now.
It was the perfect opening.
"It's all right pimp4aday, Charlene," he assured her. "Let it about happen. Lose pimp4aday control. Nothing matters but pimp4aday sex, right here, right now, with me, Charlene pimp4aday."
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