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‘What are you doing in the circle?’
‘I’m waiting.’ Her voice held the first hint of a scratch.
‘For what?’
‘For one of them to tug on my nipple clamps. When that happens I have to go to him quickly or there will be…unnatural consequences.’
I stared at her face, astonished. What the hell? Was she faking it?
Once a woman had pretended to be under hypnosis. It was her way of acquainting me with her sexual fantasy, a scenario where I played a major role. But that was a simple case, so shallow in scope that I had actually dealt with it in the consulting room using light hypnosis.
It was almost impossible to resist the soundless metronome.
I studied her for a few more seconds. She was very still, breathing calmly, down in her diaphragm. No, there was no way she was faking it.
‘Why are you at the party, Olivia?’
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then: ‘I’m not called Olivia here… I answer only to Velvet.’
I inhaled sharply. I’m going where I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t push or lead, but I could not help it. The words tumbled out of my mouth. ‘What have you been paid to do, Velvet?’
She whispered something.
‘I can’t hear you. Say it again,’ I urged gently.
She opened her mouth and I leaned forward.
Her voice was almost inaudible, but this time I heard it. ‘I have been paid to debase myself,’ she mumbled. ‘Any one of these men can do whatever he pleases with me.’
4
Lady fucking Olivia was a high-class hooker!
It didn’t make any sense. Why? Why would the heir of the vast Swanson fortune prostitute herself for money? I slumped back in my chair, shocked and oddly hurt by the revelation. And yet it made perfect sense. The word association game had exposed her glass-like fragility, and an inner world filled with secrets.
For a few seconds I debated what to do next. The answer was obvious. The hypnosis had been a success. It had retrieved her memories, albeit an unpalatable one with it. My duty was not to judge or solve any mystery. All I had to do was bring her out with her memories intact and send her on her way. I had paved the way and any hypnotist could take over now.
I looked down at her. Her blonde hair glowed a silvery blue in the light from the metronome. A thought flashed into my mind—I would never see her again—and I was suddenly overwhelmed by an irresistible crush of curiosity. Perhaps it was wrong to give in to that impulse, but I could not stop myself. It was as if I, too, was helpless and in a trance set by her mysterious alter-ego, Velvet.
What happened to her? What did she do next?
‘What happens next, Velvet?’
‘I crawl towards the man.’ Her tone is robotic and flat. Devoid of excitement, pleasure, or joy. ‘When I am in front of him I lie back on my elbows and open my legs. He inserts his finger into me and I—’
‘Freeze,’ I said, and she stopped mid-sentence.
I had ripped myself out of my own trance. I was chillingly wide-awake. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. I had badly overstepped the mark, but insid
e my trousers, my cock was rigid, the erection so powerful it throbbed and pulled painfully against the material. I shifted to ease the tension.
Never before in my professional life had I done something that was not beneficial to my client. This was the first time. I had been put into a position of trust and I had just abused it. My initial instinct had been spot on: under no circumstances should I treat her. She was in transition. She was trouble. Especially after this. I could never be impartial. I had never been.
I decided to take her through one more memory, a pleasant one, then I would bring her out and terminate our relationship. I wanted no more. I could not afford to get involved.
‘Leave that scene now, Olivia,’ I said quietly, but my voice throbbed with emotion. ‘Let’s go backwards, back to your childhood. Let’s travel to when you were five years old. It’s your birthday. What are you doing?’
Her face changed—that same creepy, child-like face came back. ‘My birthday. There’s a bouncy castle and a clown. There are a lot of kids around, but I don’t know most of them. I start walking away from the garden. I am opening the kitchen door. Blanca is there. She beams at me.’
