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BOOKING video screenings The erotic angle figured

Pleasure Cruise: Booking

(c) Copyright 2000 by Wiseguy

"A what?"

Dave chuckled a little at my confusion. "A hypno-erotic

cruise," he repeated, as if it were the most commonplace

idea in the world. "It's Eleanor's latest brainstorm. You

get a bunch of people who have a jones for hypnosis and

offer them a cruise package tailored to play up to that.

She floated a trial balloon across a couple of newsgroups

and the response was good enough that she wants to do it."

"Well, it's certainly a new idea," was all I could think of

to say. After eight years booking talent for the cruise

line I thought I'd covered just about every slant there is

on these specialty packages. All but one, it seemed.

"What kind of entertainment are we supposed to book for

that?"

"Hypnotists, I guess," Dave offered. "Get a mix of

different styles. The racier the better."

"Sure, that's a start," I agreed. "But we can't just book

hypno acts for the entire week. What else do these kind of

people like?"

"Beats me, Tina," he replied. "That's why I'm glad as hell

that Eleanor wants you to run with it instead of me."

I was afraid he'd say that. Eleanor seems to enjoy

challenging me with the oddball packages; it's her way of

keeping the job interesting. "All right," I grumbled,

"Give me what you've got."

It wasn't much: a couple of names and phone numbers, a few

hypnotists' web sites, and a book title. Clearly I was

going to have to do some research.

Fortunately for me, the first number on the list belonged

to a hypnotherapist named Rob. He and his wife Toni gave me

a crash course on the so-called hypnofetish community,

pointing me to web sites and other resources to find the

kind of entertainment this group would want. I had several

well-known hypnotists in my contacts file, of course, but I

quickly found out that erotic hypnosis acts are a whole

other genre. Rob and Toni helped me put out some feelers.

I bounced a lot of ideas off them, and eventually things

started to take shape.

We settled on a program combining a variety of stage acts

with private sessions, seminars, a panel of hypno-erotic

authors and video screenings. The erotic angle figured

heavily into the stage performers and videos as well as the

authors; several of the people we contacted were

professional dommes, people who make a career out of using

hypnosis to sexually dominate people who are turned on by

the power. I was surprised to discover how many of those

dommes are women.

Then came the difficult part, the actual booking of the

acts and participants. Rob and Toni took care of the

professional types and authors and I farmed out the videos

and music to Dave. That left me primarily focused on

finding and booking the stage acts. I traded emails with

dozens of performers or their agents. Most sent demo tapes

or referred me to pictures and clips on their web sites.

After sifting through the demos I could see there were a

couple of different basic types emerging. First were the

strictly entertainment-oriented acts -- they were pretty

much the same as the conventional stage hypnotists I'd seen

before, except the stunts they used had an R-rated flavor.

Instead of telling the volunteer to be stiff and suspending

them between two chairs, for example, they'd tell the

volunteer that she's a stripper and have her start to

perform. The volunteer in the demos was almost always an

attractive woman, I noticed.

The second group consisted of the professional dommes. The

majority of these were women; all of them were way out

there, from my perspective. Some of them had stage acts

which went even farther than the R-rated entertainers. I

saw clips of people getting naked, answering questions

about sexual fantasies, being told they were having sex

with a favorite celebrity, even having orgasms on stage in

front of an audience. Watching those clips felt a little

like staring at a highway accident. Part of me was

disturbed by the shameless way these people were being

used, but another part found it weirdly fascinating. Every

so often as I looked at these clips I'd remember the

hypnotist I'd gone to a year or so before to get help with

my smoking habit. The contrast between that dry, bookish

man and these larger-than-life personalities was almost

comical.

As the booking deadline approached, things got very hectic.

There were contracts to be dealt with, schedules to make,

accommodations to arrange -- a mountain of details that come

with the planning of a successful cruise.

The mountain felt particularly steep and rocky one

Wednesday. Dave had the day off, which left me alone to

deal with the phones, and Eleanor dropped by to let me know

that passenger space was nearly sold out. I spent the day

hopping between the phone, the fax, and the computer trying

to get everyone nailed down. I barely noticed as morning

gave way to noon.

I had just hung up from perhaps my tenth phone call of the

morning when I became aware of someone standing in the

doorway just behind me: a woman, early thirties I'd guess,

with long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She wore a

simple but well-tailored business suit which suggested a

great figure and carried a slim attaché case. "Excuse me,"

she said in a rich, flowing voice, "are you Tina?"

"Yes," I said. There was something very familiar about

this woman as she came closer, but I couldn't quite place

her. "Can I help you?"

She held out a well-manicured hand. "I am Mistress

Ursula," she explained. "We were discussing the

hypnoerotic cruise."

It took me a few seconds, but then it clicked. Mistress

Ursula was one of the professional dommes I'd contacted

early in the talent search. I dimly remembered a checking

out her web site and references and sending her an email

outlining the basic premise of the cruise package. She had

expressed a preference for doing business in person rather

than over the net, so I'd told her to stop by whenever,

expecting never to hear from her again. But here she was,

those distinctive eyes waiting patiently while I rifled

through my memory.

"Yes, of course," I said, acutely aware that it had taken

me way too long to reply. "Won't you sit down?"

Ursula gestured at the piles of papers on my desk. "Is

this a bad time?"

"Always," I replied truthfully. "The deadline for talent

bookings is Friday, though, so it isn't going to get any

better. To tell the truth, I'm not sure we still have an

open slot for you. Did I send you a contract?"

"Yes, you did." The portfolio opened and one of our stock

contracts emerged. I saw sections highlighted in yellow

and a few notes in the margins. "I thought we might

discuss a few points."

Clearly she hadn't taken the hint about there being no open

slots, but I was no mood for a confrontation. I pushed

aside some papers and picked up a notepad and pen. "Sure,"

I said, not very enthusiastically.

If Ursula noticed anything negative in my demeanor, she

ignored it. Over the course of the next twenty minutes I

learned that Mistress Ursula was a very smart

businesswoman. Our standard contract is naturally written

to favor the cruise line, and leaves quite a few things up

to the performer. Ursula wasted no time in isolating those

things, finding out how much leeway I had to amend the

agreement, and negotiating a compromise within those

limits. We were both deep into those negotiations when

another unexpected visitor came calling: my husband, John.

"Hi honey," he said, an affable smile on his round, bearded

face. "You about ready?"

"Ready for what?" I asked, puzzled. About two heartbeats

later, I realized what he was talking about. "Argh!" I

groaned as the details came back. "We had a date, didn't

we?"

"Lunch at Luigi's," he confirmed. "Did you forget?"

"Yes," I admitted sheepishly. "I seem to be forgetting a

lot of things lately." Like the fact that I had a total

stranger sitting across my desk witnessing the scene, an

amused smile on her face. "I'm sorry," I interjected.

"Mistress Ursula, this is my husband, John."

I saw Ursula taking in John as she shook his hand and

muttered a pleasantry. Her eyes wandered over his broad

shoulders, his thinning brown hair, his cuddly trunk.

"Coming to take her away for a romantic lunch," she

remarked approvingly. "You must be a very thoughtful man,

John."

John blushed and tried valiantly not to look too closely

into the opening neckline of Ursula's blouse. "I try," he

demurred.

Time to save him. "We'll be done here soon," I said. "Can

you give us fifteen minutes?"

"Sure," he said, seeming a little relieved to focus on me

instead of Ursula. "That'll still give us time to get

there before one."

"I like him," Ursula said as John retreated to the outer

office. "How long have you been married?"

"Eighteen years," I answered.

Ursula applauded quietly. "Wonderful! Children?"

"Three," I responded, and turned their picture around so

Ursula could see it. "Janet is fifteen, Megan is thirteen,

and John Junior is ten."

"Three lovely children, and a husband willing to take you

on a romantic lunch date," Ursula summarized. "You must be

very happy."

"I get by," I replied, then realized I'd gotten completely

off track. Putting the picture back in place, I picked up

my pen again. "Anyway, you were saying..."

"You've been forgetting things lately," she noted. "Are

you feeling stressed?"

"It's a hectic time in the planning cycle," I explained,

trying to bring the conversation back to business. "Lots

of details to work out, very little time to work them out

in, the usual drill. Now then, you had an issue with item

17?"

But Ursula would not be guided. "The contract can wait,"

she said. "You have all the outward symptoms of someone

under too much job-related stress. You're forgetting

things, your workplace is disorganized, and your husband is

waiting in the outer office while you talk contracts with a

client. You need help, Tina."

I started to protest, but when I looked up at her I saw

those fiery green eyes locked on my face. Ursula looked

concerned, sympathetic. I said nothing.

"Tina," she continued, "I want you to take a deep breath.

Nice and deep, as deep as you can."

I inhaled, filling my lungs to capacity.

"Now let it out slowly."

I did as she said, letting the air out slowly through my

nose. Just as my lungs emptied, she told me to do it again

and I complied.

"One more time," she said, "and this time I want you to

feel yourself relaxing as you exhale. Let your mouth open,

let your shoulders drop, as you let the breath take the

tensions and release them from your body."

Ursula was right, I decided as I continued to breath deeply

and slowly, letting my body relax with each breath. I was

stressed out, frazzled, wound up. It felt good to relax

and breathe for a second. A feeling of great peace began

to wash over me as I sat there, my eyes still locked on

Ursula's, breathing and relaxing. My eyes started to

water, and I realized that my eyelids were becoming very

heavy, very tired. I worried that I might fall asleep, but

Ursula told me it was okay, I could let them close anytime

I wanted to and nobody would mind. Relieved, I let my eyes

close down and the rest of my face relaxed with it.

Even with my eyes closed, I could still feel Ursula's gaze

on me, watching over me. A question floated into my mind:

"Have you ever been hypnotized before, Tina?"

I heard a voice answer. "Yes," it said calmly, "I went to

a hypnotist last year to help me stop smoking. He

hypnotized me several times."

"Did it work?"

"Yes. I haven't even thought about smoking since the last

session."

"I'm very happy for you, Tina. Take another deep breath

now and go deeper for me. Deeper and deeper, Tina,

relaxing and letting go ... " Ursula's voice faded into a

faint, melodious buzz. A wonderful feeling came over me:

dreamy, distant, and serene. Hypnotized, I thought

vaguely, I'm hypnotized again. I'd forgotten how

incredibly good it feels to be hypnotized, "to drift along,

happy and free, with nobody wanting anything, nobody

needing anything, nothing whatsoever to worry about or to

do, except to relax and enjoy." Did Ursula say that, or

did I think it? No matter, it was just as true either way.

Then I heard another voice, John's voice. He sounded

surprised, nervous. My eyes were too relaxed to open and

see him, so I just said, "Hi, sweetie," and felt myself

sink a little further into my trance. I was fine, Ursula

said, I was just relaxing. Very relaxed, totally relaxed.

I heard Ursula explaining to John exactly how relaxed I

was, how I had gotten that way, all the while her sing-song

voice taking me even deeper into myself. John stopped

talking after a while, and soon Ursula was telling me that

he was relaxed too, nice and relaxed, completely relaxed.

I felt happy for John, that he could share this wonderful

state with me.

Then Ursula remarked about how amazing it was to her that

we could be so relaxed with all that clothing constricting

us, binding us, weighing us down. I hadn't really noticed

it before, but she was right. The waistband of my pants

felt tight, my shirt collar rubbed uncomfortably against my

neck, and my bra felt like it was beginning to chafe around

my ribs and over my shoulders where the straps were. My

thighs wanted to be free from the binding elastic of my

panties, and my feet wanted to breathe without shoes

choking them. I could be so much more relaxed, so much

freer, without those things. And she was right -- even as

my arms and legs moved on their own to remove my clothing,

I felt myself slipping farther and farther into the warmth

and comfort of even deeper relaxation. By the time my last

item of clothing had fallen to the floor my entire body

felt alive, refreshed, warm and tingly.

Warm ... yes, I realized, I did feel warm. Especially in my

breasts and between my legs, I felt very warm indeed. Warm

and, as I began to explore those regions with my hands,

also quite wet. I caressed my warm spots freely and found

that as I did so, the warmth increased. Soon I was very

warm indeed, and I found that it was no longer enough to

pleasure myself this way -- I needed something more.

My eyes opened. I saw John standing right in front of me,

his eyes fixed on me, and I realized that John had warm

spots too. I reached over and touched the warm spot on his

chest and heard him moan with pleasure. I kissed the warm

spot on his neck, and felt his hands on my warm, soft

breasts. His touch sent waves of pleasure through me. My

hand found the warmest spot of all, his cock, and I was

thrilled to discover how huge and how stiff it was. His

cock radiated heat like a thick branding iron, and I

thought I would melt if he didn't put it into my warmest

spot right away.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lifted my legs let my

dripping slit come to rest on top of his marvelous cock.

The combined heat from our joined parts threatened to

overwhelm us both. Somebody put a hand on us and guided

John to an extra office chair, where he sat down. I took

the opportunity to lift myself up and plunge myself down

directly onto his waiting shaft, my legs crossing behind

him. His face was right near mine so I pulled him to me

for a long, languorous kiss.

We stayed that way for a long time, the heat building as I

rode up and down on him in an ever-quickening tempo. Each

bounce brought us each closer to the edge and made us want

it all the more. In the final seconds I felt a hand on my

neck, and my body relaxed again even as the best orgasm

I've ever had ripped through it. My head fell back, my

mouth fell open, and I babbled incoherently for what seemed

like half an hour as I felt John's cock twitching inside

me. There were multiple peaks with only brief pauses

between, each peak bringing a shriek or a grunt and taking

me to another place. At some point I stopped cumming and

passed out completely.

I woke up on the floor with John. We were naked, our

bodies woven together in a posture that made it very

obvious what we had been doing. At first I was totally

flabbergasted, then the memory of my visit from Mistress

Ursula began to bubble up from my subconscious mind.

Ursula! Where was she? I got up a little too quickly,

eliciting a tired groan from my barely-conscious husband,

and looked around. The door was closed and locked, the

shades drawn, and Ursula was nowhere to be found. As I

picked up my clothes, I noticed a performance contract on

my chair. It was signed by both of us -- Mistress Ursula

was now officially booked for the hypnoerotic cruise.

My business head wanted to cry foul, but I was too damn

happy to care. Instead I started laughing. Then I

realized I was standing naked in the middle of my office

laughing my ass off, and that was even funnier.

"You okay?" John was awake and struggling to his feet.

"Never better," I said, and showed him the contract.

"Looks like I'm going to have to bump somebody to make room

for Mistress Ursula."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not really. There's a couple of people who still owe me

contracts -- I'll just tell one of them I couldn't wait any

longer."

A sly grin crept over John's face. "Something tells me

it's going to be one hell of a cruise."

Our eyes met, and our minds met. I'd sold more than enough

passages on the hypno cruise to qualify for a free cabin;

when I called Eleanor and told her I was finally ready to

take a vacation, she was so thrilled she upgraded us to

first class.

I looked over at John, who was stepping into his pants.

"You'd better start taking more vitamins," I warned,

"You're going to need them."

-wg

2/25/00