The old man sat back in his chair and watched as another young woman strutted about the stage, dressed in just a pair of G-string panties and 6-inch platform heels. He imagined the women he would be hypnotizing later that day while they met at their leader's house. Even though he didn't know what they looked like yet, he visualized each of them in the place of the young woman up on the stage, swinging around and hanging off of the stripper pole. His manhood stirred at the thought.
He looked down at his watch and saw the time: almost one o'clock. It was just about time to go. He still had one more client to visit before he headed off to Elizabeth Raiford's house to hypnotize her, and her posse of feminists. But before he went to his next stop, he wanted to get some lunch.
He stood up from his table, remembering to grab his briefcase, and walked to the exit. The owner of the club (Larry Vaughn) was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he retreated to his office.
Once the old man returned to his car, he started up the engine and headed to a fast food restaurant.
After a few minutes, he parked the car and was about to get out, but then stopped and looked at his briefcase. He smiled, having a thought. He opened the briefcase, intending to take out the spray bottle. Sure, he usually used the chemical on subjects he was paid to use it on. But sometimes he just used it for his own pleasure. And the times when he did it just for himself, he always gave hypnotic suggestions that went completely against someone's will. He found that if he pushed too hard, the effects were temporary. Eventually, the person's will would override the hypnotic suggestions. That's why (for work purposes) he gradually hypnotized people, over the course of two or more sessions. He wanted to make sure that the suggestions he gave would last, hopefully until the end of the person's life. One fortunate thing about the limited effects of pushing his will onto others, though, was that when the effects wore off, the person wouldn't remember their actions while under his influence.
Breaking himself out of his momentary thoughts, the old man looked down at his briefcase ... his nearly empty briefcase. The only thing in it was his appointment schedule.
Where was the spray bottle? He looked around the inside of his car, thinking it might have fallen out without him noticing, but it was nowhere to be seen. Could it be? Could it be that someone removed it from his briefcase when he was watching the strippers at the club? He was quite mesmerized by them. It certainly was conceivable.
He started the car back up and drove back to the strip club. Who knew what the person who stole the spray bottle was doing with it?
