It was going to be one of those gatherings. Ugh.

Naz forced a smile, as she unzipped her boots. Her stylish, sexy boots. Her stylish, sexy boots that she had specifically chosen for how well they complemented her outfit. Her stylish, sexy boots that she had just been advised with a pleasant grin to remove here in the entryway of this house. She pulled them off remorsefully and added them to the sizable pile of abandoned footwear on the mat by the front door.

Oh, well. At least she had worn her sheer, black nylons. And done her nails in vibrant colors the night before. They would show nicely through the hose. So, from head to toe, she would still look fashionable. If a bit more casual than expected. Or preferred.

Except that, no, she now remembered. She hadn't worn the nylons. While dressing, she had found a large, ruinous run in them. And promptly thrown them away. Letting out an anguished, aggravated wail as she did. Instead, she had put on athletic socks. Ten on the scale for comfort, zero for style. But style, shmyle. Who would see them inside her boots?

Inside her boots, no one. But outside her boots, everyone. Because it was one of those gatherings. Ugh.

So, off with the socks. She stuffed them into her boots. Then, she brushed off the lint that had collected around her toes. Because socks: ten on the scale for comfort, zero for style, eleven for lint.

Next, she did a quick assessment. Feet were now clean. Always well kept. Nails were A+. Not the look she had hoped for, but not bad at all. Barefoot worked on her. It worked well.

As she exited the foyer and entered the living room, she saw that barefoot worked well on all the dozen or so ladies there. All were attractive. All were stylishly dressed. And not one wore socks, stockings, or tights. At least she fit in with the group in that regard.

She walked across the luxuriously plush carpet, the feel of which, admittedly, she would have appreciated much less in stockings and not at all in boots. When she reached the large, sectional couch, two ladies smiled up at her and scooted over to make room. A nod of thanks. Butt on cushion. Pleasantries and greetings all around.

But despite her best efforts to relax and get comfortable, Naz could do neither. This just wasn't her scene. Housewives with nothing better to do during the day. Getting together for the modern version of a Tupperware party. For some product she didn't even know about. Why had she come? What had she been thinking?

What she had been thinking was that it would be a good chance to see her bestie from college. Who she never saw. And who would be there. And who had invited her to come with. She was willing to go anywhere, do anything for that all too rare opportunity to see bestie. A ladies party? Hawking some product no one needed but all would walk away with? Great! Sign her up! As long as bestie was there. And they could get a drink or three afterwards.

But bestie had canceled. Stomach bug. Naz should still go, though! She had RSVP'd, and a space was reserved for her. The ladies were great! Sweet! Welcoming! Fun! And the two of them could catch up another time. Soon!

So, here she was. Among the sweet, welcoming, and supposedly fun ladies. Feeling out of place. Growing more and more tired of their cheerfulness. Willing herself to get up and leave. Without worrying about being rude. Or bothering with an excuse. Nope, sorry, can't stay. Only here for bestie. Who isn't here herself. Nice to meet you. Have fun. See you never.

She remained where she was. And said nothing. Rudeness wasn't her thing. Any more than Tupperware parties were. She sighed. And took some small comfort in shuffling her feet back and forth across the sensually soft carpet. Focusing on how good that felt. Until the woman next to her noticed. Isn't it lovely? It's like a mini massage! Heavenly! Yeah, it was. Until she was observed. Called out. No longer anonymous. Now visible in the crowd.

The small comfort evaporated. She struggled to maintain her polite, agreeable smile. She sighed again. When would the event start? Hopefully soon. Definitely not soon enough.

Several interminable minutes later, the hostess entered from the kitchen. Carrying a serving tray of drinks and finger foods. Like her guests, she was pretty. Sweet. Welcoming. Fun (it could be presumed, by someone's standards, if not likely by Naz's). And barefoot. All around, impressively put together, head to toe. She set the tray down on the coffee table. Then introduced herself to the newcomer.

Naz? Amanda. So glad she could make it! So sorry bestie couldn't! Well, why didn't they get started?

Yes, please. Get started. And get finished. Naz owed herself a drink or three when this was over.

Amanda began the presentation. All the guests gave her their undivided attention. Even Naz. For a little while, at least. But long before Amanda finished, Naz's mind wandered. It wasn't the fault of the presenter. No, Amanda was as charming and well-spoken as she was pretty. But the product being presented just didn't make sense to Naz. What was it for exactly? Why would anyone buy it? Use it? Gift it?

Becoming as bored with not paying attention as she had been with listening to the spiel, Naz found her mind wandering back over to Amanda. She gazed at the hostess. Their eyes soon met. Locked. There was an unexpected connection. A feeling of familiarity. Of easiness and comfort. Amanda leaned in. Naz did the same.

Then, the hostess winked. Grinned. And moved on. Naz blushed. What just happened? Had something just happened? She hoped no one saw her blush. But she knew that Amanda had. Ugh. This really needed to be over soon. Time for that drink or three.

Amanda paused for questions. The ladies were all abuzz with excitement over the product. But Naz just didn't get it. So, she asked.

What was it all about it? What use was there for it? Who would buy it? She hoped she didn't come off as rude. But her confusion was genuine. As was her desire to know, even if it was born more of boredom than of interest in making a purchase.

No one took her questions as being rude. At least, no one seemed to. Certainly not Amanda. Oh, no. The point was to ask questions. To get answers. To make an informed decision. The rest of the women were familiar with the product. Naz was new to it. So, it wasn't surprising she didn't quite understand. The best place to start was with the manufacturer's name:

Mesmero.

Right, Mesmero. What did that mean? It evoked trance, suggestion, hypnosis. Was that deliberate? It certainly was. But why? Because that's what it was for. For trance, suggestion, hypnosis? That's right. So it was used to hypnotize people? Women, yes. Only women? Yes.

Why was there a product used only to hypnotize women? And did everyone here want that? To hypnotize women?

Good questions. Simple answers. The product existed because there was a market for it. As for the guests at the party, no they didn't want to hypnotize women. They wanted to be hypnotized. Be suggestible. Submissive. Obedient. Controlled.

What? None of that made sense to Naz. It was crazy. It didn't compute. Who in their right mind wanted to be hypnotized into submission and obedience? Who wanted to have their mind controlled? It sounded like...well, like brainwashing. Who the hell wanted to be brainwashed?

Naz looked around the room. Looked long and hard. At the sweet, welcoming women. At the sweet, welcoming, barefoot women. At the sweet, welcoming, barefoot women who hung on Amanda's every word. They looked eerily happy. And entirely vapid. Like they didn't have a thought in any of their pretty heads.

They already knew about Mesmero. They were already customers, weren't they? Oh, yes! They all used Mesmero products! Or, at least, others used the products on them. Their partners, spouses, significant others. All used one Mesmero product or another on their lovely ladies. And those lovely ladies were here today to learn about the latest one that could be used on them.

And what about Amanda? Did she use the stuff? Or, like she said, was it used on her? Absolutely! It was wonderful! And this new one would be the best yet! Once Naz tried it, she would see!

Thanks, but no thanks. Pass. Not for her. And you know, she should be going. Busy day. Lots to do. Including calling her bestie to see how she was feeling. And ask if she knew how crazy these people were when she encouraged her friend to go to their party.

Was Naz sure she didn't want to stay for the demonstration? Wouldn't she stay? She should stay! She must stay!

Naz stayed. Not because she wanted to. Nor because she didn't want to be rude. No, she stayed because she suddenly found herself held down in her seat by many pairs of hands. She struggled. Fought. But she was nothing less than overwhelmed.

She glared at Amanda. Their eyes met again. Locked. Naz willed poison, acid, and laser beams to shoot forth from her eyes into Amanda's face. Amanda simply gazed back, much as she had before. Then, she winked. Grinned. And moved on.

Naz now had more to worry about. Her arms and legs were held out in front of her. As they were, two women approached her holding coiled lengths of silken cord. One began wrapping the rope around her wrists. Then moved on to encircle her upper arms and chest. The second began binding her ankles. Then moved up to secure her thighs. Once she was utterly restrained, the remaining women positioned her on the couch. Made sure that, head to heels, her whole body was supported.

Finally, Amanda herself brought out a silk scarf. As Naz fussed and cussed, the hostess gently but firmly gagged her guest with it.

Naz continued her struggles. And her cussing. But her bonds muted both. All she could really do was clench her fists. Squirm a bit. Flex her toes. And make muffled, nonsensical noises. For all the good any of it did.

Amanda readied the product. Then she began the demonstration. All the women watched in gleeful excitement. This was Christmas morning. And every childhood birthday. Rolled into one.

Naz couldn't tell what was happening. Had it started? No, not yet. Wait. Maybe. Yes? She could feel something. Something odd. An itch? A tickle? Kind of. But no. Not unpleasant. Just odd. Weird. If this was hypnosis, it wasn't like in the movies.

Suddenly, there was a new feeling. It was definitely no itch or tickle. It felt good. It was downright pleasant. Like walking across Amanda's sumptuous carpet with no shoes on. Or rubbing her bare soles back and forth over it. Yes, it felt something like that. But not just on her feet. Everywhere. All over her body. And even...inside her head. In her brain.

The pleasure continued. Increased. It calmed her. Relaxed her. Tranquilized her. She knew then she was in trouble. She suddenly understood that an induction didn't have to be like in the movies. No swinging pocket watch required. No swirling spiral. No pulsing lights. As sure as with any commonly known method, she was being hypnotized.

But knowing didn't help. Nor matter. She felt so good. She didn't want it to stop. It was too good. Too much. Too wonderful. There was no way she could resist the ecstasy. No way she wanted to. She embraced the sensations. Gave into them. Succumbed to them.

She sighed. Not in annoyance. Nor impatience. But in bliss. In absolute, unadulterated bliss.   She smiled. In earnest for the first time since she'd arrived at the party.

Soon, she drifted down in a comfortable, cozy, dreamless sleep. And she remembered nothing else. Not Amanda speaking to her. Suggesting to her. Commanding her. Demanding of her. Not herself agreeing. Accepting. Submitting. Obeying.

Before, it had sounded to her like brainwashing. She had not been wrong. It was brainwashing. Now deeply hypnotized and extremely suggestible, she was being thoroughly and completely brainwashed....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shoes off at the door? Really? Evie wondered if Naz had maybe re-entered one of her wild and free, Bohemian phases. Or, joined a cult. In any case, it was Naz's flat, so Naz's rules.

At least Evie knew in advance. Otherwise, she would have probably worn her new pumps. Which she'd been dying to wear out for a month now. And then been disappointed to take them off as soon as she got there. But as it was, with Miss Artsy Bohemia hosting tonight, she just went with flip-flops. And a pedicure for good measure.

Kicking off her shoes in the hallway, Evie padded into the living room. There she saw half a dozen women sitting around Naz. Everyone was pretty. And barefoot.

Naz and Evie's eyes met. Locked. Evie saw happiness in them. Excitement. And something else. Something unfamiliar. Something odd. Then Naz winked. Grinned. And moved on.

Evie listened as Naz explained why they were all there. The other women seemed familiar with everything already. Which left only Evie to figure out what Naz was sayting. It didn't make all that much sense.

Was that an actual consumer product? And was that actually what it was used for? And the brand name, was that for real? Oh, yes! Mesmero was definitely real!

Here, let them show her what it was all about....