Hypnotized(4)

Right there and then I knew that under no circumstances could I treat Lady Olivia. I was too sexually aroused to remain detached or impartial. And I could only see the situation in my pants worsening with more proximity. The last thing in the world I needed was to court another scandal. Nothing good could come of it—for me, or her. I would give her one session and at the end of it when I had a better overview of her case, I would recommend a couple of regression experts whom I trusted.

I gestured my open palm toward the chair facing my desk. ‘Have a seat,’ I invited.

‘Thank you,’ she replied and began moving toward it.

Coming forward, Beryl raised her eyebrows and gave me an old-fashioned look as she passed me Lady Olivia’s forms.

‘I’ll be out front if you need anything,’ she offered archly.

‘Thank you, Beryl,’ I said dryly, but she just winked, and quietly closed the door.

I turned my attention back to Lady Olivia. She had just reached the chair and was slipping into it. For some seconds I stood simply staring at her, mesmerized, actually helpless in the pull of her sexuality. Totally at odds with her cool expression, her carefully measured greeting, her severe hairstyle, and dull, somber clothing, her movements were shockingly sensuous.

She actually reminded me of those insects that have no voices and communicate by vibrating their bodies. Her body was communicating with me. The touch-me-not image she had created for her new amnesiac self was not the truth. Behind the façade lived a supremely sexual creature. The clue was in the startlingly red, come-hither lipstick.

I tore my eyes away, dropped her forms on the table, lowered myself back into my chair, and faced her. She was watching me like a cat, dignified, detached, and unblinking. Up close and facing the light from the window, her eyes were like two slicks of liquid mercury, completely opaque. I didn’t know it then, but I was as doomed as the Red Indians at the Fort Pitt siege who were tricked into accepting small pox infected blankets and handkerchiefs from their white enemies.

‘Lady Olivia—’

‘You must call me Olivia. Lady Olivia is too grand.’ She wrinkled her nose charmingly. ‘It makes me feel awfully pretentious.’

I grinned at her. ‘Nervous, Olivia?’

She smiled back. Great smile. ‘Extremely.’

‘Don’t be. It’s painless.’

‘Oh! Good.’

‘Right then. Let’s see what we have here.’ I pulled her forms toward me and glanced at them quickly.

Age: Twenty-five.

Not on any prescription medication.

No to the illegal drugs question—or at least none that she wanted to disclose.

No to photosensitive epilepsy

No nervous disorders of any kind.

Non-smoker.

Alcohol consumption: Two to five units a week.

No allergies.

No phobias that she can think of.

In short—a model citizen.

‘It all looks good,’ I said looking up.

She was staring at me again with that intent cat-look of hers. ‘That’s marvelous. So you will be able to hypnotize me?’

‘I’ll give it a try. As I explained to your stepmother, not everybody is susceptible to hypnosis.’

‘Oh.’ In that one little blameless sound was a world of disappointment.

I leaned back, my chair tipping, and regarded her with a friendly expression. ‘Tell me, Olivia, what are you expecting to come out of your session?’

Her hands fluttered. ‘I suppose I want to be able to remember my past—or at least some of it.’

I nodded. ‘Do you remember nothing at all of your past?’

‘Almost nothing.’

I found my eyes roving her face distractedly. Her complexion was milky white and when she spoke she hardly moved her mouth at all.

‘What do you remember?’

‘My first and most vivid memory is of my grandmother. She was smoking a menthol-tipped cigarette in the Tapestry Room and she opened her silver cigarette box and popped one between my lips so I could pretend to smoke. I remembered the thrill of sucking on it, the cold minty air that came out of the filter, and her amused, indulgent expression as she looked down at me. I knew that she loved me dearly and I loved her just as well.’

‘How old do you think you were then?’

She shrugged one shoulder, a lazy, sinuous movement. ‘I don’t know. Maybe seven.’

Her lips had not shut after she had spoken but remained parted and moist. A glimmer of perfect white teeth showed in the gap. And I suddenly and absolutely craved to see her naked and sucking my cock.

I coughed. ‘How soon after your accident did this memory surface?’

‘It happened at the hospital as I was coming out of the anesthetic. After that there were no more clear memories—just vague impressions of familiarity, feeling that I knew a place or a person, and unconnected—I must say, disconcerting—flashes of images.’