Dr. Vanessa Madsen finished drinking her third glass of red wine and let out an almost inaudible sigh. The woman sitting to her right at the reception, a mid-forties orange-haired, skinny abomination that had the audacity of thinking she looked good in a leopard print jumpsuit, had been yapping for the past twenty minutes, hardly stopping to catch a breath. Whenever the therapist thought she was finished with her ramblings, along came another, in a series of convoluted and mind-numbing arguments that could put almost anyone to sleep, and the worst part is that she expected her to say something in return.

“I think I’ve had too much to drink, and nature is calling right now,” the busty brunette replied as she slid away from the chair and the nagging company next to it. Eager for a moment of respite, she almost stumbled on her way out, but she quickly regained her composure and waltzed across the other tables as if nothing had happened. In the face of potential embarrassment, confidence was always key, and she had it in spades. The groom smiled at her with his glass held high and she reciprocated with a nod before heading to the bathroom.

Vanessa finally left the hall of confusion behind her and navigated the five-star hotel’s corridors until she found what she was looking for. The inside of the ladies’ room was as lavishing as the rest of the building, a spectacle of marble and crystal that no living soul could ignore. The beautiful details in every corner were perhaps the only redeeming quality of that late Sunday afternoon, and so she took a moment to appreciate them. The quiet contemplation did wonders for her state of mind yet was quickly interrupted by a wail from the closest bathroom stall. It was louder than a banshee’s, and almost as terrifying.

“Everything’s fine, thank you,” was the reply she got. The woman had a thick Southerner accent, and her throat was sore.

“Thank you for the concern, but yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry about me,” the invisible woman buried her head between her shoulders and continued to cry. The sound was so intense it was as if she could drown in tears at any moment.

“You’re still there,” she said, immediately regretting opening the stall’s door.

“I already said I’m okay. This is nothing. Do you mind leaving me alone?”

“I... I can’t do that now...”

“Knowing you’re listening is embarrassing...”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

“What are you doing?”

“It seems like you’re trying to get me to talk about something even though I just said I don’t want to.”

“Yes, it certainly does. Please, don’t do that again.”

“I hate opera so yeah... definitely too much.”

Vanessa committed to silence for a bit to better observe her new company. She looked about her age and was a relative of the bride, as evidenced by the crimson corsage on her right wrist. The sunken gaze told her she had been crying for about fifteen minutes before she came into the picture. That was simply too much for someone so young. With the ice now broken, she waited for her other mental barriers to slowly come undone.

“Not all but most, yes,” Vanessa replied. “I hope you’re not crying over one.”

For a good listener, that was more than enough to make her blood boil. A firm believer in Female Supremacy, Vanessa couldn’t stand the thought of an inferior creature causing such distress to a woman to the point of breaking her down like that. ‘Blasphemy’ was a proper word for it and now, more than never, her new companion had her attention.

“You would do that for me even though we’re complete strangers?”

The other woman slowly raised her head like a wounded beast stuck in a trap and said:

Vanessa remained motionless as the sudden downpour of unwanted emotions escalated to Storm of the Century proportions. The bathroom’s lights flickered momentarily, acknowledging Maggie’s perturbed state of mind, and then everything subsided as she bathed her hands in cold water and her own reflection chastised her for giving an undeserving creature so much power over her.

“It’s okay, Maggie. Betrayal is a bitch and considering what you just said, I don’t blame you for thinking about revenge. What you need to ask yourself right now is if you’re just going to stick to thinking or you’re willing to go the extra mile.”

“Agreed though he still deserves some retribution, and that’s kind of my specialty. Want to hear about it?”

“The license says psychiatrist, but that’s just a title. I’m also a teacher, hypnotist, disciplinarian, male ego crusher, and so many other things that if I were to list them all, we would be here the rest of the day. If you’re worried about punishing him for what he did and then feeling bad about it, may I suggest you enlist my services to take care of things for you? I hate weddings and I could use a distraction until this is over... interested?”

“To be honest, I haven’t thought that far yet, but it will be humiliating enough. You get to keep your consciousness clear because it wasn’t you that pulled the trigger, so to speak, and I get to have some fun in the meantime. I know it’s a strange deal, but it’s also a win-win situation so... when are we starting?”

* * *

William Robertson wasn’t always a no-good prick with questionable hygiene habits and a complete disregard for another person’s feelings. Until the age of ten, he was actually the most respectful boy in his group of older friends. Then, came the first porn magazine, the rude awakening of his nether brain, and all the nights of self-gratification that followed until he finished high school. By the time he was a college freshman, women had become nothing but colorful meat trophies or jerking fodder, and “fuck them and leave them” was now a motto worth living for.

He was therefore visibly pleased when Vanessa appeared out of nowhere to claim the spot where Maggie had been sitting until then. Big boobs, smoldering eyes, tanned legs he would love to spread like butter... if the hotel still had vacancies, perhaps he could do that before the night was done.

“No, I’m right where I need to be now...” Vanessa replied, leaning slightly forward so he could feast on her perfect breasts while she talked. While she didn’t feel quite the same if she wasn’t wearing a suit, the more feminine attire had its advantages. “You must be Will.”

“Madsen. Dr. Vanessa Madsen.”

“A flatterer, I see.”

“And here I thought that type of sweet talk was just a scheme to get inside my panties...” Vanessa smirked, pushing a plate filled with spiced rum-glazed shrimp to the side.

“To me, nothing. Maggie sends her regards though,” she grabbed a slice of garlic bread and chewed on it.

“Not friends, for we just met today... more like temporary business partners. She told me what you pulled off today, Will, and that was certainly one of the most despicable things I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Agreed for this is the part where I talk, and you listen.”

“Now, do that again with the real thing,” he rubbed his engorged balls under the table.

“I bet not. You’re above that. You’re a Man with a capital M and not a bitch with a lowercase b. You never have moral quandaries, and your masculinity rises above everything else. You feel powerful doing to others what you would hate having done to you, saying that’s your free will in action, the ultimate expression of your soul. Poor Will, sitting on his chair, wanting absolutely nothing to do with what I’m saying and yet listening because I’m playing with my boobs and priming your neurons for the idea of sex. As long as your cock gets your fill, you’ll invariably accept whatever I say, especially if you’re unable to parse the entire flow of information. While your conscious self is only still focused on futile things like boobs, cleavage, and fucking a woman in the ass, the real you, the tiny man inside the tiny brain with a tiny cock, has already embraced confusion and the blissful mental fog it brings, sinking with them just as my finger goes down... down... further down still...

William’s eyes fluttered from the altered state of mind as he saw Maggie staring at him from the table to his right. The redhead woman had first laughed at the idea of using a simple hypnotic suggestion to get back at him but something about the way she had seen Vanessa play with words and emotions made her pussy wet.

“Yes. I guess you just couldn’t see me... You’re one hell of a son of a bitch, Will, but what I thought of doing to you is nothing compared to what you’ll be doing to yourself now that the trigger has been implanted. Thank you, Vanessa. This was fun to watch and well worth the price you asked.”

“I’d love to, thank you.”