Lost Fortnight

Nigel awoke, still bleary-eyed, and looked around his study, to a knock in the door.

Walls lined with books, an antique desk, a roaring fire in the grate, and a big comfortable armchair, the match of his own across the fireplace from him.

It was all so very familiar and homely, but something was wrong. His tired, muzzy brain could not identify it at present, but something was very wrong.

"Come in!" A young woman in tweeds and a man his own age, about thirty, who was carrying a briefcase, entered. The woman was wearing well cut tweeds, fashionable for this year of 1931, the young man in a baggy suit.

Nigel made to get up but they urged him back, and the young woman sat opposite him, the young man perching on the arm. Both smiled.

"Hello Nigel."

Nigel was embarrassed. "Hello Penelope, Arthur."

He had had a very angry argument with this young lady the last time he had seen her a fortnight before. A student of psychology, she had advocated the therapeutic use of hypnotism, only to be shouted down rudely by Nigel who called it primitive mumbo-jumbo. The affair, had ended with her betting, in front of an amused Arthur, to furnish proof it's efficacy, the loser to buy the winner a lavish dinner.

"I am afraid I am little sleepy. I must have dozed off in my chair here. I had a strenuous two weeks with my cousin in Scotland and quite a long train ride."

The pair continued to smile.

Nigel blushed, suddenly aware of something bulky between his legs, and a strange confused feeling.

"I do not know why I said that. I do not have a cousin in Scotland."

Arthur stood up and took his pipe out, "What we have, old chum, is proof of Penelope's skills at hypnotism. You have spent the last two weeks in her cottage, under a hypnotic spell. I have the details here."

"Nonsense," shouted Nigel, but there was an element of doubt in his voice.

Arthur took out a bulky photograph album. The first page had a note in which Nigel undertook to be part of a hypnotic experiment.

The second was a photograph of Nigel in the same chair, with Penelope in front of him, obviously speaking quietly.

The next showed him getting into a car with his luggage, the next getting out at a secluded cottage in the country.

He went to turn the page but Arthur stopped him. "You had insisted on a high level of proof. You may find the next pages a bit distressing."

Nigel squirmed in his seat. The object between his legs was not overly comfortable. He wished he could go to the bathroom and find out whatever it was. "Go on."

In the next picture Nigel was sitting on a kitchen chair, wearing only a towel, while two women shaved his legs and face. He blushed, and ran a finger around under his trouser cuff. Smooth hairless skin.

Next showed him in an old fashioned maid's costume, black and white with a skirt to mid calf, frilly cuffs, stockings and strappy shoes with a medium heel, his longish hair styled in a feminine cut. He was wearing a touch of makeup, and, surprisingly, was not unattractive.

He went purple and made to get up, then sat back with resignation.

Successive pictures showed him doing domestic work, chatting with Penelope, brushing his hair before a mirror. A faint remembrance of these events was coming back, and he reddened further.

They were coming to the end of the album now. A picture of himself and Penelope having tea in a café He groaned. The shame if some of his colleagues had seen him? But, he reasoned, he might not have made a particularly pretty woman, but he was unrecognisable as the sour academic his colleagues knew.

Another picture, and he was dancing in some Palais with a young man, Penelope looking on with amusement in the distance.

The final picture showed him leaving her house with his case.

He looked up at her, "I think you have won your bet."

She smiled back at him, a rather pretty smile.

Arthur stood up, "I have to be going now, I just came along to make sure you did not strangle the young lady. Needless to say I will keep mum about all this. Oh, by the way, you will find you are wearing a little metal chastity device. A clever chap in Germany makes them. I decided it would be a way to prevent you becoming distracted as well as insurance in case the experiment went wrong. I think the keys are in Penelope's bank."

The door slammed. There was a silence.

Penelope went a little red.

"I am sorry if I humiliated you, but I do feel very strongly that hypnosis has a lot of potential and I had to convince you. I will have those keys sent around tomorrow."

He sighed, "I am convinced, and do not hurry with the keys, as I think you are very much to be trusted."

He picked up the album and leafed through it, then put it down and placed his hands firmly on the arms of the chairs, almost as if he was trying to keep them from disobeying him.

"I must book a very lavish dinner indeed to celebrate your impressive achievement, "

She smiled, and he went on, "Two things stand out. One is that I appear to have had my ears pierced and fitted with earrings."

She reddened and produced a brown paper envelope from her bag. "I am afraid you insisted. We went out for tea together the first Monday, and you admired my own earrings and insisted on having your ears pierced."

She handed him two photographs of himself, in feminine dress, sitting smiling in a rather crowded jeweller's shop as a woman fitted him with earrings.

He sighed and lifted his hands to his ears, feeling the tiny gold hoops hanging loosely in their fully healed holes. A sudden memory came to him, of striding out of the jewellers, confident in his strappy high heeled shoes, sinfully proud of the little rings gleaming in his earlobes.

"I can help you take them out and give you some make-up to hide the piercings."

"Maybe later, strangely I feel rather happy when I play with the little fellows. I would not like the holes to close up after all that trouble."

"What was the other thing?" she asked.

"When you look at those pictures, does anything stand out?"

She looked at the full album. "No."

"Do you notice that I look extremely happy?"

She went red, "I did find that you seemed to be very relaxed."

There was a long silence, " Perhaps you could come and visit me again, possibly even next weekend. Of course you would need to dress as a lady. I could not have a single man staying with me." She smiled, impishly.

"Indeed not. In that case, you had better help me take those earrings out for the present. I can replace them every night to keep the holes open. And you may as well keep the keys to this infernal German object in the bank."

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Page last updated 06-Sep-08 by: Altairboy@aol.com