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| Scott |
Going to school in Elizabethtown wasn’t the happiest of times for me. A scrawny, but smart kid with glasses bigger than my face, I wasn’t very popular. Once I graduated, I was happy to go to college at NYU. I came out and felt much more like I belonged. I became a hypnotherapist and already had my own practice at the age of 28. My parents would often visit me down in the city, but a few times a year I would make the drive up North. The good part about visiting my folks was that my Mom always spoiled me, making my stay more than pleasurable.
I was on the I-87, and it had been a good three hours. I had definitely left the buzz of the city. On both sides of the road were rolling hills. I had left late in the morning to avoid rush hour. I had had one stop for some lunch, but I hoped to do the rest of the drive in one go. I passed Harriman and had to get a ticket at the toll booth. Albany was still about 100 miles away and I was going way past Albany. I looked for a good radio station in this rental car.
I continued driving, thinking about the relatives I was likely to encounter this weekend. My Long Island friends would be shocked to hear this, but on my Mom’s side there were some uncles who, let’s say, really loved the Second Amendment. I just knew to stick to certain topics with them, but that wasn’t always my call to make. Avoiding arguments and probably even discussions on certain topics would be the way to go.
I vaguely remember passing Kingston as I drove on autopilot. Glenmont reminded me that Albany wasn’t far. In Albany I took exit 24, going Northeast in the direction of Montreal. Not much longer now. I must have been driving for around 4 hours. I was ready for it to be over. I had to wait in line to pay at the toll booth, but soon I got to choose the direction of Montreal again, leaving Albany behind me.
After Saratoga it soon became clear I was driving up into the mountains. The road got narrower and less busy. There were pine trees all around. It did make me feel like home, even though my home hadn’t been here for nearly ten years. There were a few clouds in an otherwise perfectly blue sky. Around 66 degrees (19 Celsius), it was a beautiful spring day. I was ready to get out of this car. My foot was starting to hurt. The further I drove, the more beautiful the views became, but I was getting annoyed and didn’t really see it.
And there it finally was. Exit 30 to Keene Valley. I exhaled deeply. I exited the 87 and turned left onto the 9. I took a right to avoid going to Lake Placid. It finally said Elizabethtown on the sign. I smiled. 10 miles. It was 3:00 PM exactly. I could kill for a soda. I remembered there was a gas station on Park Street where I could get myself a drink and fill up the car for the drive back. I was hoping they would sell flowers, so I could buy some for my Mom. She wasn’t expecting me to arrive today, which was Thursday. My Dad had told her I couldn’t get the time off work, so she thought I was arriving late Friday night. So to arrive with a bouquet of flowers would be extra amazing.
The road went downhill and there was green of the pine trees all around. I passed the few houses of the neighboring town New Russia. With the brook rippling to my right, the city now felt so far away. I had seen maybe one other car for the last few minutes. It was easy to tell that both the state of Vermont and the border with Canada weren’t far.
I saw the little church on my right and knew that the 9 had just changed into Court Street. I was here! Very little had changed when I had last visited for the holidays. Court Street was Elizabethtown’s main road. Right before town hall, the nicest building in the entire town, I took a left onto Park Street and stopped at the Stewart’s Shop on the left side of the road. I got out and smelled the fresh air, which was definitely different than back in NYC. It was amazing to be able stretch my legs as I filled up the car with gas.
I walked inside the shop to buy myself a drink and possibly some flowers. I saw the refrigerated area first and wandered towards it. As I stood in front of all the soda options, I quickly looked around the shop. It didn’t seem like they were selling flowers. The shop was pretty much empty. An older, dough-y looking man was at the cash register, paying a young, hunky employee. The uniform, which was a red polo, fit quite snugly around his arms and shoulders. I quickly picked up a bottle of soda.
I walked over to the register just as the old man was leaving. I put the bottle on the counter and took my wallet out of my jacket.
“Mel?”
The guy behind the counter said my name. I looked up at him. A brown buzzcut, a wide, beefy body and a slight wrinkle in the forehead. He looked maybe a few years older than me. It was the smile that I had a vague recollection of. It was someone from a long time ago. Then it clicked.
“Scott?”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were a big shot in the Big Apple?”
I laughed. He called NYC the Big Apple. Wow.
Scott was the big football jock in my grade at high school, meaning we were the same age. There was something in his eyes that made him look mature. In high school he was a stereotype in some ways, as he dated a cheerleader throughout all of senior year. The good part about him was that he wasn’t a bully and once even addressed his teammates and told them to stop when he saw them bullying me. I have to say that he grew up very nicely. He was handsome, built, and polite. His biceps bulged as he grabbed the bottle off the counter and scanned it.
“I’m visiting my parents for my Mom’s 50th”, I said. “I just drove up here.”
“Oh, cool! How long are you here for?”
“I drive back on Monday.”
“It’s $1.35. We should definitely catch up while you’re here. I missed the ten year-reunion.”
“I did, too”, I said, looking down.
I was blushing. I wasn’t sure why Scott was keen on spending time with me, probably not for the reasons I would want him to. I never came out in high school and I was assuming he didn’t know I was gay. Otherwise he probably wouldn’t be this eager.
The front door opened and a little bell sound interrupted our conversation. I paid him the money and put the change in the tip jar. I looked at the little wrinkle in his forehead as he smiled.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, do you know where I can pick up some flowers? To surprise my Mom.”
“You can always try Tracey. She’s on Court, other side of town hall.”
“Oh great, thanks.”
“Sir? Can you help me?”
A fragile looking older woman stood behind me and needed assistance of some sort. Scott immediately came from behind the counter and walked toward her.
“So, I’ll see you around”, I said and headed out.
“Yeah. It was nice seeing you, Mel.”
He looked at me and I was dead in my tracks. The sudden chemistry caught me off guard.
“Bye”, I whispered as I opened the door. I walked to my car and had to sit in it for a while to recover before I could drive off. I drank some of the soda. I couldn’t really remember if I had heard anything about what had become of Scott Harvey. I thought he had a scholarship to play college football. But that’s about it.
I drove to the other side of town hall. Immediately after town hall I saw a café called T. Spooner’s. And in the same little building there was a second door that just said FLOWERS. That had to be it. I parked and walked in. Tracey made a beautiful bouquet for my Mom. While I waited, I texted my Dad to ask if she was home. ‘Affirmative’ was his reply. I smiled. I realized I didn’t have Scott’s phone number. Maybe it was for the best as not to develop a crush.
I drove around the block and there was my parents’ house on Hand Avenue. I got out and walked in with the flowers and my Mom was really surprised. She even got tears in her eyes.
“Isn’t that lovely of him, Donnie?”, she asked my Dad as she smelled the flowers.
My Dad chuckled.
“You knew?!”
We all laughed.
That night, we stayed in and caught up. Mom had made way too much food, but it was all good. I slept in my childhood room. Especially the single bed took me some getting used to, as was usual for me whenever I stayed over at my parents’. Soon enough though, I fell asleep, tired from the journey.
The next day was Friday. After a lavish breakfast my mother made for me, she asked me to join her to the supermarket to get supplies for the party the next day. This was sort of a Sanford tradition, specifically for me and my Mom. When I was little, I loved to get the shopping list and run through the store to get everything into the cart as quickly as I could. For me it was a game, for my Mom it was just incredibly convenient. Nowadays, when I visited for the holidays, the supermarket was just a way for me to leave the house and have something to do. So I gladly joined her.
We parked at TOPS supermarket. We went in, and as usual, my Mom had prepared a list.
“How many people are coming to this party?!”, I said, amazed at how many items were on the list.
“You know me”, she chuckled, “better too much food than not enough!”
We were almost done when my Mom needed to go back to the cereal aisle.
“Your father finished his cereal box this morning”, she clarified.
I saw him immediately as we turned the corner. A grey zip-up hoodie, unzipped. White wifebeater underneath. Slight tufts of chest hair poked out. Blue basketball shorts. White sneakers. His short hair slightly flat, his forehead shiny. He clearly had just worked out or exercised. He was checking out the back of a cereal box. I saw him from the side. His beefy butt stood out from his body as he leaned to one side and mainly rested on his right leg. In his other hand he held a basket with only a few groceries. The supermarket basket came across to me as a sign of singledom.
I didn’t say anything to Mom about recognizing Scott. I was scared to speak at all. Mom obliviously walked toward him. Scott put the cereal box in his basket and looked up, directly at me.
“Hey Mel! You again?”
I chuckled nervously.
“Hi Scott, good to see you. It really is a small town isn’t it?”
I got even more nervous when he put one arm around me and gave me a short pat on the back. It was an almost-hug. I was already starting to get erect. He smelled of dried up sweat, the manliest of smells.
“You must be Mrs Sanford”, he said, turning to my Mom.
“Call me Kayla”, she answered, smiling and shaking his hand. She flipped her hair from one side to another. Her body language gave away she thought he was attractive.
“Scott Harvey. I went to high school with your son. You don’t look a day over 40”, Scott complimented her.
We all laughed.
“I ran into Scott yesterday and told him why I’m visiting”, I explained to my Mom.
“Don’t you work at the Stewart’s Shops?”, she directly asked him, “I’m sure I’ve seen you there.”
“Yes, I do! That’s where we ran into each other!”, Scott said, pointing at me.
“Oh, so you were working? You haven’t had a chance to catch up!”
I felt like I knew where this was going. My Mom was being my wingwoman.
“Mom, are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine! I just need a cereal box from behind you there, Scott”, she said.
Scott turned around and bent over to get a box from the shelf behind him. I could have sworn I saw the outline of a jockstrap across the side of his cheek through his shorts. I could feel my face turn red as my cock reached full erection. Scott handed the box to my Mom.
“Thanks”, she said to Scott, then she turned to me and winked.
I was impressed with how good a wingwoman she really was.
My Mom went to the check-out by herself, leaving me and Scott by ourselves.
“I just need a few more things”, he said.
“Sure!”
“Wanna have lunch at the Deer’s Head?”
“I’ve never been!”, I said.
He smiled at me as we both were silent for just a second.
“You’ll love it.”
Temperatures had gone down to 63 (17 Celsius) and the sky was cloudy throughout the day. We sat down at a table inside. The place was pretty much empty. I guess it was just a regular workday for most people. The Deer’s Head was quite fancy for Elizabethtown standards. The food was really nice, the waiting staff was so friendly. It was great to have Scott sit across from me, his wide chest half-covered by the tanktop, the light chest hair staring at me, his nipples pointing through. He was also incredibly charming. His smile so disarming, the little wrinkle in his forehead distracting.
Scott talked to me about what had happened in his life in the last few years. He had gone to SUNY and pursued a football career, but broke his foot in the first year. He had dropped out. He had married Sheila Harris, the cheerleader he dated in high school, when they were 20 years old. He had done two tours as an airforce pilot. When he got back the second time, she admitted she had had an abortion, because she had had second thoughts about their marriage. Scott and Sheila divorced at age 26. So now he was just living by himself in Elizabethtown, still recovering from PTSD and working in Stewart’s Shops part-time.
“Wow, that’s quite the story”, I said. I felt honored he was willing to tell me so much about his past, as it showed quite a vulnerable side to him. His story also explained why he looked so mature. He must have seen some things and he had gone through a lot.
“First of all, thank you for your service”, I said. “I actually work with people who have PTSD quite often.”
“Oh, really? What is it that you do?”
“I’m a hypnotherapist.”
Scott raised an eyebrow.
“Is that really a thing? I thought that was all a big pile of bull.”
“I’ve actually helped people overcome trauma, improve their insomnia, got them to stop smoking, or lose weight…”
“Really?”
I smiled and nodded. It actually wasn’t so uncommon for people to question my profession.
“Could you hypnotize me right now?”
I smiled. This was also quite a common question. I sighed and looked around the room. Usually this question was asked in a crowded New York bar. Here it was quiet and it was just me and Scott at the table.
“OK”, I said.
Scott smiled, sat back and crossed his arms, seemingly confident I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him.
I had to make him uncross his arms, to help his body relax. I decided to let him put out a hand in front of him, with his index finger pointing up. I told him to focus on his index finger. He obeyed and was already blinking a lot, trying to focus as hard as he could. As an armed forces guy, he was clearly very good at taking instructions.
“Let your body relax and let your worries and thoughts disappear. Relax your shoulders, your back, and your chest. Take deep breaths in…. and out. In…. and out. Relax your abdomen, your legs, and your feet. You’ll find that the more you focus on your finger, the harder it is to keep your eyes open.”
I could tell Scott’s eyelids were starting to get heavy. I took his finger in my hand.
“Now imagine that there is a little magnet in this finger. And it’s connected to another little magnet, right here on your forehead.”
I tapped him on the forehead slightly. The finger was already moving away from me, toward his face. He was an excellent subject.
“You’re feeling the finger coming closer to your face. The more you’ll try to resist the magnetic force, the stronger it becomes. And you’ll know the second that finger touches your face, you’re going to fall in a deep, relaxing sleep. A sleep where there are no thoughts or worries. You’re feeling your face relax more and more, your eyes getting heavier and heavier.”
I noticed Scott’s mouth dropped open and his eyes started to slightly roll up. He was fighting it, but it was too late. Unconsciously, he was a very willing subject.
Eventually, the finger touched his face and his entire body went limp. His body fell back into the chair. His face hung to the side, his mouth wide open, his eyelids fluttering. His large chest showed his slow breathing. I smiled. I looked around the diner. No-one was around, but I knew I shouldn’t wait too long to wake him up.
“You’re going deeper and deeper with each word I say, feeling so incredibly good. It feels good to sleep. The deeper you go, the better you feel. The better you feel, the deeper you go. Soon, I will wake you up from this sleep. But you will be ready to go back whenever I snap my fingers and say ‘sleep’. Whenever I snap my fingers and say ‘sleep’, you will go right back down into this wonderful sleep, just like you are right now. Every time I do so, you will go deeper than the time before. Now I am going to wake you, counting up from 5, your mind is no longer empty. 4, you are becoming aware of your surroundings. 3, you are getting back control over your body. 2, coming up further. 1, almost there. And you’re awake!”
Scott had slowly gotten back to consciousness and had his head pointing back up, though his body was still slack in the chair. He had a big smile on his face.
“It didn’t work, did it?”
I now also smiled. Scott had been such a good subject, he had gone so deep he didn’t remember being hypnotized.
“Like, I feel relaxed, but nothing actually happened”, he said matter-of-factly as he sat back up in his chair.
“I think you just don’t remember being hypnotized.”
Scott laughed.
“Prove it!”, he said.
I snapped my fingers.
“Sleep!”
Scott’s large body fell right back in the chair. His arms fell to his side. His zip-up hoodie was sliding off his right shoulder. His head fell backwards, dangling over the back of the chair.
I had an idea. I looked around, saw we were still alone in the diner, and got up. I walked around the table to where Scott was. I saw that his eyelids were halfway down, just showing the whites of his eyes. His mouth hung open wide as his head dangled down. I slid the hoodie off of his right arm, revealing a bicep tattoo. I then rolled down the sleeve of the other arm as well and I was able to slide the item of clothing from behind him. I put the hoodie on myself and zipped it up. I went back to my seat.
I looked at Scott, hanging in his seat in just his white tanktop, which showed off his amazing body. His muscular arms, his pumped up pecs, and broad shoulders. His nipples pointed through the fabric. He had large tattoos on both of his biceps, making the wholesome guy in the red polo from before look a little more rugged.
“Scott, I’m going to count you back up from 5, drifting towards wakefulness. 4…. 3, becoming aware of your surroundings. 2…. 1, almost there. Wake up!”
Scott sat up straight. His first instinct was to nurse his neck. Then he looked at me and immediately his eyes widened in surprise.
“You’re wearing my…”, he said before looking down at himself, only wearing the white tanktop.
“Wow, now that’s impressive. I don’t even remember you doing that!”
I smiled.
“It happens when subjects go deep”, I said.
“You’re going to have to do that to me again, I can hardly believe it!”
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