A holiday celebration heats up after dusk.
The electronic key card gave a green light meaning entry to the room. A college frat boy like Billy symbolically loved that green light, as if the whole night was going to be one long green light, for him and his frat brothers. All weekend they argued about their big Sunday night plans, convinced that they were the lucky ones.
Cheesy, cause he couldn’t resist putting cheese on everything, described his plans to a tee, showing up at his girlfriend’s place on Sunday night, roses and chocolate in-hand, buttering her up with both. After cooking her dinner, with no cheese he claimed, he’d feed her the chocolate, and run that rose all over her body, especially the lines on her face and stretch marks from 3 kids (his new-found love for older women), whispering to her how she was a real woman, experienced, authoritative, irresistible, how all those sorority girls had nothing on her. He’d pamper her all night, and was bound to hit the jackpot.
Barker, proud ladies man and admitted horn-dog, would have the same approach for his lady in the beginning, chocolate and roses. Difference with his lady would be how they would read passages from books together. We laughed pretty hard at that before we heard what he’d be reading, passages from her feminist books she wrote as a former professor (they joked about it being another cradle-robber situation), and her cheesy romance novels. He was proud of the last one since she said he had the look of the beefcakes on those covers. His buttering her up was speaking about the ‘inequities of the alpha male, and the understated benefits of female superiority’ and the world she wanted to envision for her daughters; he sure as hell convinced us he believed in the stuff. And after rubbing her feet and doing a bunch of beta stuff, which he convinced us he was good at playing that too, he would score.
Billy, grinning about the night to come as he entered the vacant hotel room didn’t have to say much about how lucky he was, since they all already met his date a few times. The first time was that stage hypnotist presentation that came to their college. Her stage name was Miss Mentalist or something, but her real name was Tovah; tanned, charming, looking like a student’s wet dream even in a navy suit. Him and his brothers ended up on stage, and all she did was talk to them at first. Cheesy and Barker, started to look really out of it after the first few minutes, and Tovah noticed Billy was still pretty awake. She looked at him curiously, like she’d found a challenge; he gave that look back. She winked at him, and made a point of talking about how they were hypnotized but he wasn’t, in that same tone of voice. Her words blurred somehow as they stated what Billy already knew, that he wasn’t hypnotized, how he could just listen and be what he was, how he felt. He kind of nodded the whole time as they nodded off, enjoying what sounded like phone sex without the sex to them.
The next thing Billy to notice of was Tovah counting with her keen eye how many people on stage and how many people in the audience she saw had been hypnotized by her talking, with her finger, she playfully counted sixteen people. Switching to the phone sex voice, she pointed at people and counted backwards. It seemed like everyone she pointed at went under pretty easily, including audience members that weren’t under before.
Billy knew she was inching towards him.
He watched Tovah address his friends.
And after an unexpected pause pointed to him, his eyes fixed on her white french tips, feeling the thrill of wondering if he was under, if she finally got to him, if what he felt then was being under.
He looked up from her fingernail, to see her wink again, and proceed to count up normally and wake up everyone.
Bill laughed in that hotel room, remembering that show, thinking of how little he’d have to brag about his night’s escapades. All the work they would have to do, how little he had to do as she genuinely showed interest in him; they saw it that night, and the next day when she ran into them, showing off her phone sex voice for a while after they mentioned how much they liked it. She used it for the rest of the conversation as they talked about their plans like it was Valentine’s Day weekend. She loved what she heard, which turned into the frat boys loving what they heard, the only sad part was when she had to go.
Bill picked up one of her business cards left on the table, “Wildcat Consulting,” assuming the cat under it was a mountain cougar like he’d seen from a distance on hikes.
From behind, he saw Tovah entering the room, dressed in the same dark navy suit from the show, on the phone with someone, sounded like a young girl laughing with Tovah. She strolled his way as Bill mouthed, ‘hey sexy.’ She pressed that finger against his mouth to silence him, and smirked when he took that finger in his mouth to suck it gently. He swore his ears picked up a ‘love you Mom’ from the phone. “Love you too, sweetie,” she sounded matronly and loving, before ending the call and dropping her voice a few octaves.
“Hey baby,” she whispered.
“Mmmm, phone sex voice,” his mind commented.
“Sorry I’m a little late. A friend of a friend of mine needed a little suggestion or two. Are those for me?”
Bill looked down at the box of chocolates and roses he’d forgotten were in his hands.
“How lovely,” she kissed his cheek while taking them slyly out of his hands. She sat on the bed, reaching for a glass and chilled champagne he also didn’t notice.
“Pop that for me, will you?” She handed him the cork, smiling lewdly at his lewd smile, watching him keep his eyes only on her as he popped it open and filled her glass.
“Where’s my glass?”
“Your glass is stand at attention, right there, and hand me the champagne bottle.”
He heard her answer, but wondered what kind of an answer was that as he handed her the bottle to set back in the bucket of ice.
“And now for my favorite part of the night – gloating.”
“Mmmmhmmm. Seems appropriate, doesn’t it, with everyone getting lucky tonight? A widowed mother of three has a young man cooking, cleaning, and treating her better than her late husband ever did, and he gets to dote on her and show her what a woman she is. A divorced feminist who nearly gave up on men has a young stud whose mind is open and willing to learn about his place in her world, and he gets to be in her world, beneath her, rewarded by her.”
“You’ve got the hottest girlfriend ever talking to you in that phone sex voice you love, that just makes you want to do things for me, and you get to do those things for me.”
Those things sounded nearly as great as the sound of Tovah’s voice, but his mind was the look she was giving him.
“Why Tovah, are you undressing me with your eyes?”
“Would a nice Jewish girl like me do something like that? No, I’m undressing you with my mind. But not in the way you think, but in the way I love, because my one rule for a show or transaction is that I get the most resistant subject, no exceptions, because every woman has that one thing that really, really gets them off, and mine has always been a challenge. How you didn’t fall under as fast as your friends, that look on your face questioning what you were feeling, if you were under at all, when I see someone up on stage like that, I get excited, and I savor breaking you down, piece-by-piece, until I have you right where I want you, standing at attention before me, dressed in clothes that resemble the mental barriers or resistance that keeps you from being as mindless as your friends.”
Tovah’s words blurred gently in his mind, buzzing in his head like his mind was a beehive, as he continued to enjoy the look of a woman that wanted him.
“Women pay top dollar for my skills, because they’ve seen me work, and can’t believe that all they have to do is pick a stud of their choosing out of a crowd, and those stud’s minds fill up, open up to a voice telling them that resistance is itchy, that clothes are unwanted, that freedom is air, that bare is hot, because the room is hot and resistance has layers that can be peeled away as easy as any unwanted thing until you have freedom.”
“And any other boy by now would’ve taken the hint and disrobed for me by now, but not you, so you get to listen to that voice in your head talk and want to caress your skin like it does your brain, but finds it hard to do so with all clothing buttoned, zipped, and covering you, that itchy, burdensome collection of cloth keeping that phone sex voice from touching you those clothes on you, acting as your resistance and keeping you warm. But why do you need to be so warm? You’ve got your hot girlfriend here, talking to you in that hot phone sex voice, making me work for that body that wants me, needs me, that can’t have me with all those clothes in the way, trapped in itchy clothes unwanted, the air of freedom hot because you aren’t bare. Barely able to think with those clothes, itching for freed, airy heat resistance won’t give you. It gives you what you don’t want, scratched, left solid, cold, covered, chained. It gives you itchy, hot, clothes peeled away, leaving you free and bare for me.”
“So if resistance is clothes, itchy, unwanted, then that means slavery is hot, bare freedom. And you feel that resistance now, itchy, unwanted, clothing, itchy, clothing, resistance, unwanted, resistance, itchy, unwanted, clothing, itchy, itchy, resistance, clothing, itchy, unwanted, resistance, clothing, unwanted, clothing, unwanted, itchy, resistance….”
Billy lost touch with everything around him as he was reduced to four words that made him grasp the clothes that made him sweat, that irritated his skin, that he denounced more and more with every word. The words repeated in his brain while Tovah took a sip of her champagne, pleased to see him rip his buttoned shirt and the undershirt beneath him to shreds.
“Itchy, unwanted, itchy, resistance, unwanted, clothing, itchy….”
He struggled with the jeans and belt, but figured it out and lowered all of his clothes down to the floor, falling down as he forced his shoes and socks off to shed the rest, sweat covering his whole body, scratching his skin to relieve the effects of clothing, until a voice relieved him more effectively.
“There, see? All that was resistance, unwanted, itchy, gone. All that’s left is slavery, which is hot, bare, freedom, hot slavery, freedom, bare, hot, freedom, hot, slavery, hot, bare, slavery, freedom, bare, kneel, hot, bare, kneel, kneel…”
Billy made it up to his knees, reduced to listening, bombarded by words racking his senses with bliss, the temperature still rising, but comfortably bare, never questioning the difference between freedom and slavery, reaping the benefits as the phone sex voice caressed his body like one of the roses that teased his chest, face, and genitals.
“Freedom, kneeling, bare, hot, slavery, slavery, freedom, hot, bare, sexy, hot, slavery, bare, freedom, slavery, hot, sexy, freedom, bare, slavery…”
He was already erect with his clothes off, but she enjoyed watching his length grow longer and harder as she stroked the length of his cock with the rose petals. Tovah brought it to her face and enjoyed the rosy, musky scent it carried.
She never seemed to get tired of this program, having young men fulfill the fantasies of middle-age or older women who believed they were past their prime. Women whose greatest importance became being mothers, and no form of decent intimacy to speak of in their lives. Like Billy, they felt unwanted, they itched for more than what age gave them, and the smartest of them resisted their status and eventually found a woman like Tovah, who found herself in the same boat, but had the skills to keep her sex life active, and extended that to other women, wanting to feel hot, sexual freedom again, supplied by a younger in mental, temporary, adoring slavery.
Every woman who hired her got exactly that, even down to specific programming for their customized pleasure; a perfect man to remind her even on a holiday like mother’s day what it meant to be a wanted woman again.
The words that enslaved Tovah’s “difficult” subject intertwined with more direct words from Billy’s girlfriend.
“Look up, baby.”
Glassy eyes rose to find Tovah topless.
“Wanna know why they nickname me the ‘pacifier?'”
His mouth deduced it better than his mind as it found its way to a rock hard nipple.
“Good guess, baby.”
Tovah could feel how his sucking was ramping her up until she’d throw toying with him further to the wind. She pushed him away gently, and reached down to get a condom out of his pocket. She slid it on him while she slid the rose into her crotch, and laid it against his nose, smelling the night’s activities to come.
Before pulling him back to her breast she told him.
“Before either of us stop talking for a while, let’s make it official, shall we?”
Asking him to reach deep into his mind and recite what he and his frat brothers had been made to in celebration of the women they worshipped.
“Happy Mother’s Night…”