It's a slow, sweet, relaxing evening. She and I lounge in bed. We sit propped up on pillows, each doing our own thing, but enjoying being by one another's side. She surfs the Web on her tablet. I watch a playlist of music videos that I'm streaming on our TV.
"Mmm, that's nice," she says, flexing the toes of one bare foot. "Ooh, yeah, that's a good spot. Ahh. I need to ask you to do this more often."
Her foot is in my lap, and she clearly appreciates the massage I'm giving her.
"Oh, and you don't need to stop any time soon, you know," she says. "Except, maybe, to switch to the other foot at some point."
"Not any time soon, no," I say in agreement. "Except to work on the other foot."
"Good, good," she says with a smile.
The whole time, her eyes don't leave the screen of her tablet. One would think that whatever site she's looking at must be very engrossing. Perhaps she's reading a poignant article. Or, she's watching a very funny video. Or, she's chatting with a friend she hasn't talked to in ages. Something gripping must have her attention.
And it does. But it's not what one might think. Nor is it anything that she realizes.
She doesn't know that an app I installed on her device is running. The swirling spiral it produces is nigh-invisible, only registering with her brain subliminally. The text that flashes within the spiral is also subliminal. So, while it imprints itself in her mind, she is entirely unaware of it.
It isn't that she is hypnotized, per se. But she has been rendered highly suggestible. Thus, she carries out the instructions I programmed into the app, and which are being programmed into her.
Her perception, as per my wishes and her conditioning, is what I described earlier: She Web surfs and receives a luxurious foot massage from me, while I watch music videos.
Reality is somewhat different, though:
Yes, her foot is in my lap. But she massages me with it. The TV is on, but what I watch is a live feed of us from a camera placed on top of the set.
"How about we switch now?" she says, wiggling the toes of her other foot to indicate exactly what she means.
I, of course, have no objection. The angle isn't right to get that foot in my lap, so we move around to occupy each other's former spot on the bed. All the while, she continues gazing at her screen, oblivious to the gentle washing it's giving to her brain.
Soon, we're settled in, and the massage begins again.
"Mmm, that is just lovely," she says. "Yeah, right there. That is perfect."
She isn't wrong.
It's a slow, sweet, relaxing evening. She and I lounge in bed. We sit propped up on pillows, each doing our own thing, but enjoying being by one another's side. She unknowingly obeys subliminal instructions to get me off with her feet. I watch the live feed of what she's doing on our TV.