Dr. Marissa Dyson stood at the podium before the attending members of the press. She stared out at the crowd, making distinct eye contact with each individual in turn. Her gaze delivered the wordless yet unmistakable message that she meant business. She would neither espouse, nor tolerate any funny stuff.

Dyson’s aide, a young intern named Suzette, took a step towards the podium and whispered to her boss that it was time to begin. The doctor nodded curtly. Suzette stepped back, her task complete and having received as much acknowledgment as she would for doing it.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Dyson said.

Her voice emanated clear and strong. Like her, it was feminine, but structured and full of authority. She cut a school marm figure in her smart blouse, knee-length skirt, close-toed high heels, thick-rimmed glasses, and tightly pulled hair bun.

“Earlier this morning, I interviewed the suspect in custody. After a thorough session with him, I can absolutely assure you that the so-called ‘Hypno-Bandit’ has none of the extraordinary powers or skills that the press and public attribute to him. He does not posses the power of mind control...”

Dyson paused to take a breath. Then, almost as an afterthought, she stepped out of her shoes to stand barefoot on the carpeted floor.

“...Nor does he have any skill as a hypnotist…”

She exhaled and, without missing a beat, began to unbutton her blouse.

“...He is under the delusion that he can cast a spell on his women victims, allowing him to rob them and make them forget what he looks like…”

Her shirt now undone, she discarded it. Then she removed her glasses and tossed them aside.

“...And furthermore use them as conduits through which he can ensnare and enthrall other women...”

She picked the bobby pins out of her bun and shook out her long, lustrous hair until it fell wildly about her shoulders.

“...Clearly, his ideas are ludicrous, as no person can exert such power over another. Our duty as a society is to not further his fantasies. We need to stop reporting them and instead stick to the facts, as I am presenting them to you. Thank you for your time and attention.”

After a curtsy to the press, she turned to Suzette. She grabbed her aide by the shoulders and planted a deep, passionate kiss upon her lips. When she pulled away, Suzette swayed on her feet, looking pleasantly dazed, as if she were under a hypnotic spell.

“That is all,” Dyson said the reporters, and then to Suzette, “Come, my dear.”

“That...is...all,” Suzette said in a halting voice, and then to Dyson, “Coming….”

Then she kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot after Dyson out of the door.


The End