Thunderland (18 page)

“Thomas, are you listening to me?”

He added the grated cheese to a huge bowl of salad. “Go ahead and wash up, Linda. Dinner’ll be ready any second.”

She started to speak, knew it would be useless, and decided to keep quiet. When she returned downstairs after freshening up, Thomas had finished setting the table. The food looked delicious.

She sat down. He poured wine for both of them. He filled her plate with salad, then filled his own.

“All right,” she said, “stop avoiding the issue. Why’re you doing this? What’s the special occasion?” He smiled. “There’s no special occasion, baby. I love you. That’s all the occasion I need.”

She would have needed steel wool to wipe the smile off her face. Apparently, he had dealt with whatever secret he’d been guarding. Or maybe he’d never had a secret. It must have been the cynic in her, restlessly probing for nonexistent problems. Shame on her for doubting him. To think that she’d suspected another woman!

They fell easily into conversation, and the talk was better than the food. It had been months since they sat down and talked without conflict. They talked about good times, friends and family, places they had been and places they wished to go. She became so engrossed in their discussion that her plate seemed to clean itself.

“Hey, you look ready for dessert,” Thomas said.

“You made dessert, too?”

“Of course, I did. I think you’ll enjoy it more than dinner.”

‘What is it?”

He smiled. “Close your eyes.”

She shut them. She heard plates and silverware being conveyed from the table to the sink. Then silence.

“Okay, you can open them.” Thomas was standing beside her chair. He had stripped down to a pair of low-rise red silk briefs.

She sucked in a deep breath.

“I didn’t give the dessert a taste test,” he said. “You’re gonna have to tell me if it’s sweet enough.”

She tore her gaze away from his beautiful body and looked into his eyes. “You think you’re slick. ‘Easy to digest, won’t slow us down.’ ” She giggled. “Baby, even if you weren’t as sexy as you are, you’re sweeter than any dessert could ever be.”

He smiled, came to her. She rose out of her chair to meet him.

“But I’d still like a taste test,” she said.

Go through the physical motions, and the mind will follow,
Thomas thought as he stood in the kitchen wearing only silk briefs, watching Linda rise to embrace him. Good sexual performance relied on state of mind as much as it did on health, and since he was in excellent shape, his guilt presented the only obstacle to his satisfying Linda. He had gone through the motions of being an exciting lover: preparing a delicious meal, being a good conversationalist, and then stripping and presenting himself as dessert. He did those things not only to romance Linda, but, just as important, to put himself in the mood. To rise above his pangs of conscience and attain that crucial level at which instinct took over. A level he had been unable to reach the night before.

Linda slipped her arms around his waist. They kissed deeply.

“I want you so much, it’s killing me,” he said, praying his body would cooperate with his words. He kissed her neck, explored her marvelous shape with his hands. Although he felt a growing desire, he did not feel that irrepressible sexual drive he needed in order to give Linda what she deserved.

After all, that was all he wanted to do: give his wife what she deserved. Finally resolving that Linda’s contentment was more important than his self-esteem, he no longer considered telling her of his adultery. Why make her suffer for his mistake? The cliché was true: what she did not know could not hurt her. The truth would hurt him, maybe for a long time. He would have to live with it. He would simply have to focus on being the loving husband that this fine woman in his arms deserved.

They kissed and touched for what seemed like forever; then, by unspoken mutual agreement, he carried her to the bedroom.

He placed her on the bed and undressed her. When she was nude, he stood back and regarded her. Prolonging the sweet tension. Building up his own excitement.

“You have a beautiful body,” he said, and it was true. They had been married for years, of course, but it had been ages since they had been nude in front of each other. In the past, on those rare occasions when they’d had sex, they had performed in darkness, neither of them undressing completely. He was pleasantly surprised at how well she had maintained her figure. As he took in her gorgeous body and imagined how she would feel against him, he felt himself becoming harder than ever before. He rolled down his briefs.

“My goodness,” she said, apparently experiencing a similar surprise. “You look like a chocolate Adonis. If you don’t get on this bed with me right now, I’m going to scream.”

He stroked himself a little, teasing her. “Do you really want it?”

She laughed. “Come here!”

He stretched out beside her on the bed. She pressed onto him, enveloped him in her body heat. He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts. He slid his fingers across her legs, traced circles on her firm hips. He had forgotten the pleasures of her body, and rediscovering her silken skin, sleek legs, lovely hips, and warm, full breasts thrilled him. He could get used to making love to her again. Her body was a hammock, and now that he had immersed himself in it, he only wanted to stay there, close his eyes, and rock, and rock, and rock. ...

By eight o’clock in the evening, they were ready to hypnotize Jason.

Shorty’s house was their base for the night, and they elected to perform the regression in his bedroom. They placed a recliner in a corner and put a padded chair a couple of feet in front of it. They positioned two nightstands on opposite sides of the chairs and planted a brass lamp on each.

To record the event, Shorty had borrowed his parents’ compact camcorder. Shorty would film the proceedings. Brains would be the hypnotist.

Shorty gave the room a once-over. “Looks like everything’s set. Are you ready, fellas?”

Brains cracked his knuckles and sat in the padded chair. “I’m ready.”

Jason eased into the recliner. His heart beat way too fast; Granddad’s warnings echoed in his thoughts. But he said, “I’m ready, too.”

Shorty switched on the lamps. He shut off the ceiling light.

He turned on the camcorder and focused the lens on Brains and Jason. “Showtime,” Shorty said.

Brains had never been so nervous. Although they had prepared as much as they could that day, he felt incompetent, the way he might have felt in a chess match against a grand master. He was supposed to be Jason’s rock, the one upon which Jason could depend to guide him through this session safely. But he needed someone to guide
him.
Studying hypnosis on the Internet was not enough.

But he could not express his anxiety. Both Shorty and Jason thought he was brilliant, the one with all the poise and knowledge. Sometimes he disliked wearing the “whiz kid” label, but he mostly enjoyed the respect his supposed intelligence accorded him. Perhaps his desire to maintain the fellas’ admiration was the kind of motivation he needed to keep himself together and do a good job tonight.

More important, he wanted to unravel the mystery of the Stranger. The Stranger was, to Brains, like a perplexing mathematical theorem that begged for a solution. Brains would not rest until he had discovered the answer.

“Okay, Jason,” Brains said, “lean back in the chair and relax. Rest your hands in your lap, palms up. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.”

Jason obeyed his directions. Brains waited a few seconds, allowing Jason to get comfortable.

“Now, Jason, I want you to imagine a blue balloon. Imagine it floating just in front of your feet. Can you see it?”

“Yes.” Jason kept his eyes closed.

“Good. Now the balloon is starting to float up and over your body. As it passes over you, your tension and anxiety drain away. The balloon floats over your calves, and your calves relax. It drifts over your knees, and your knees relax. It floats over your thighs, and your thighs relax. It passes over your stomach, and your stomach relaxes. It floats over your chest, and your chest relaxes. It drifts over your neck, and your neck relaxes. It passes over your face, and your face relaxes. It floats over your scalp, and your scalp relaxes. And now it’s hovering above your head. It starts to sail upward, higher and higher into the sky, and as it drifts away, so does all of your tension and anxiety. Soon the balloon is out of sight, and you are completely relaxed.”

Jason was slumped in the recliner, breathing softly.

“You are in a very deep, very relaxing sleep,” Brains said. “And you will answer some questions for me. While I ask you these questions, you will remain in that very deep, very relaxing sleep until I order you to wake up. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Jason, do you remember the watch I showed you earlier?”

“Yes.”

“I have that watch in my hands now.” Actually, he did not. “Can you see the watch in my hands?”

“Yes.” Jason’s eyes remained shut.

“Great. But see, this is a unique watch. It’s a magic watch. It controls the flow of time. Now, I’m starting to turn the watch hands backward. The hands go around and around the dial, farther and farther back. Can you see the watch hands spinning backward?”

“Yes.”

“Now something magical is happening. As the watch hands turn backward, time itself begins to flow backward, too. It isn’t ten minutes past eight anymore; it’s now eight o’clock. And now it’s seven o’clock in the evening ... six o’clock ... five o’clock ... four o’clock ...”

Gradually, Brains guided Jason back in time. He regressed him to that important weekend day in March, about three o’clock in the afternoon, twenty minutes before his calamitous fight with his mother. None of them was eager to have Jason relive his terrible fall out of the tree. If Brains could retrieve the information they sought without having Jason experience that trauma again, they would be satisfied.

“Where are you, Jason?” Brains said.

“I’m in my bedroom,” Jason said. “Sitting at my desk.”

“What are you doing?”

“Reading a magazine.”

Brains nodded. “What have you done today?”

“I did my chores, then had breakfast at my grandfather’s. We talked a couple ofhours, and when I left his house, I went to the beach since the weather was nice. I hung out there for a while, skipped rocks across the water, daydreamed; then I came back home. I’ve been in my room reading magazines since I’ve been here.”

“Did you do anything else? Meet any friends, maybe?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

He said that too quickly, Brains thought. As though he wanted to avoid the subject. Almost as though he were hiding something.

“You don’t have a single friend?” Brains said.

“No. I told you that.”

“You honestly don’t have one friend?”

“I said no, didn’t I? Do you have wax in your ears?”

“Why are you getting testy about this? I only asked you a simple question.”

“You asked a nosy question.”

“I get the feeling that you’re hiding something, Jason. Are you?”

Jason did not reply. Eyes closed, brow creased, he shifted in the recliner.

“You have to answer my questions honestly,” Brains said. “Do you have any friends?”