Catching Jacob Tritt (hypno)
by Gentry DuVane
(c) 1998
Finally a pleasant surprise. Yesterday Big Bubba (the new bodyguard I mentioned) escorted Joseph to Racine to visit his parents. As you know, they are marginally involved with our efforts to remain safe from the Kakistocracy. Kenneth had chores about the house to accomplish. It being a beautiful Saturday afternoon, I decided to take a stroll along Navy Pier immediately east of my apartment complex. Those few of you familiar with the Windy City may know it. There is a long extrusion of concrete into Lake Michigan which is used in part by the navy for docking of its crew ships. But primarily it is a shopping and entertainment facility complete with myriad shops, restaurants, two movie theatres and convention facilities. Its southern face is a large promenade complete with shops, sculpture, and a breathtaking view of the blue-and-green waters of Lake Michigan. Boats drifted both near and far, some private, some available for leasing or group cruises. Once, some time ago, Joseph and I took a cruise upon the Windy, a four-masted schooner. I have heard it mentioned by others as well.
On this particular fine afternoon, I wore dark tones. In July or August, such attire would have been untenable, considering the heat and humidity of a Chicago summer. However, in the sunlight of a brisk October day, it provided me with the perfect balance of solar heat and wind guard. As usual, I wore my crystal pendant around my neck. One never knows when some fine young man would find his eyes drawn to it, lulled into a contented sleep by its scintillating motion.
As I walked along its course, the promenade around me was heavily dotted with tourists, locals and the occasional naval officer or seaman. Though I often walk the pier when I have much on my mind to consider without interruption, on this particular afternoon I turned to its serene atmosphere for a distraction from the many troubles that plague us. I was weary and in need of respite.
One crucial ingredient in said respite came from the setting itself, of which I have made scant use in recent months. The other comes from enjoyment of faces unclouded by turmoil, forms moving freely and unhurriedly, and the occasion pleasure of handsome men, strong bodies, and lithe movement. There is always much to appreciate at Navy Pier.
I must have been somewhat beyond the Windy's dock house (the ship itself being on the last of its thrice-daily cruises) when I noticed a very well-sculpted form pass me by and jog into the distance. Somewhat taller than myself, jet black hair like my own, and a beautifully slender body. Shorts, in spite of the chill in the air, revealed well-worked legs. Tank top exposed strong arms and a well defined "V" of a back. Entirely appealing, though I could not see his face. But it was not important. The observation of appealing men is not nearly so much about them as it is the feeling it engenders in the watcher; whether his face was handsome or not, the rest of him was pleasing and therefore distracting for me. My enjoyment had no bearing upon him, and he passed me entirely unaware and undisturbed. Rest assured, he was not the only one to leave me an unknowing gift and continue uninterrupted.
As I continued walking toward the eastern end of the pier, I came eventually to a very intricate brass sculpture which I find quite fascinating in its complexity. I may include an image if I find one. As I rounded the piece, I noticed my jogger emerging from obscurement behind it, clearly examining the details as I often do. From this new vantage, I made a discovery. It was Officer Jacob Tritt.
He caught my eye contact immediately, and though the location disoriented him for a briefest moment, I am certain he recognized me almost immediately. I was the first to speak. "Officer Tritt. Fine afternoon."
"Mr. DuVane. Yes, it is." He stopped directly in front of me, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The muscles in them were well-worked from his jog and stood out vividly in the late afternoon light. Because of the cooler weather, there was no hint of sweat on his bronze skin.
"This has been a favorite course of mine for outings," I told him. "A fine way to forget one’s troubles. I don't recall seeing you on the Pier in the past. Is it a new curcuit for you?"
"No, sir. I've come down here on occasion, although I generally prefer parks closer to home." He gestured vaguely northward. Artistic and affluent ghettos lay in that direction, as well as the district affectionately called “Boys Town”. I wondered from which category he hailed. Several people passed us; I noted that he did not take his eyes from mine to glance at them. Instead, he continued to meet my steady gaze, shifting uncomfortably, uncertain of himself. Interesting. Without having to think about it, I sustained leading body language. It was natural for me - and a pleasure as well.
I continued to engage Tritt in conversation for a few moments, carefully avoiding all talk of Scott or the investigation. Instead, matters of entertainment, the Pier, and so on remained our fare. His use of “sir” remained consistent, although credited that primarily to the fact that our relationship had begun as an officer to a citizen. “Sir” would be his customary form of address in that milieu. Still, remembering the subtle indications from that first encounter, I judged that the possibility of much more remained. Instinctively, I had already brought my breathing into conjunction with his, further establishing the rapport that my eye contact had begun. As an experiment, I put my hands briefly behind my back and watched as Tritt mirrored my motion. It was a classic sign. I smiled at him, and said, "Officer Tritt, did you happen to notice if the lemonade stand was open when you passed it?"
Instinctively he glanced over my shoulder, though the vendor was not in his line of sight. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't recall."
"Well, it can wait, then." I moved my hands back to my sides and watched him remain in the classic "at ease" stance in front of me. Breaking eye contact had weakened the rapport. I would give him a few moments, then regain it when the time was ripe. To my left, the Windy had begun moving around the breakwater into the inner docking area. I turned my head only slightly to watch it approach. "Have you ever taken one of the cruises on the Windy, Tritt?"
"No, Sir, I haven't. I've thought about it on several occasions, though. I have heard good things about it." There were slight cues in his body movement. He was aiming himself directly at me, again keeping eye contact. He also flexed muscles slightly as I happened to glance down. He found me appealing, and he wanted me to have the same reaction. So my previous impressions had been accurate.
I nodded with approval at his response. There was the faintest hint of a satisfied smile as I did. He seemed completely comfortable at the moment – admittedly a bit of a surprise. The use of his surname without title had been calculated on my part, and apparently acceptable on his. By its use I'd shifted us from a formal work relationship into one of acquaintances. His reply had been somewhat revealing.
"It truly is a refreshing two hours,” I continued, keeping control of the conversation. “The journey down the coast, beyond the planetarium, is quite breathtaking, and the aroma of water and the touch of the wind is something not to be missed. You should try it."
His dark eyes were again locked on my own. The rise and fall of his chest mirrored my own breathing. "I'll do that."
For a moment, I did not speak; I simply drew in a deep breath. He followed suit almost in unison with me. Silence stretched for moments, to nearly a minute. He seemed quite comfortable standing before me, waiting for my next words. Tritt would definitely make a superb subject.
Considering my next action, I noted the way his mouth worked slightly as he looked into my eyes. Suddenly a little thirsty, I judged. Another few moments would tell for sure. I began him talking again – the subject inconsequential as it was my tone and attention that were the only real issues at hand. I slipped in another mention of the lemonade stand and, as expected, he seemed to grow more thirsty. Of additional note: he had not mentioned it himself; was he waiting for me to take that lead again, perhaps? Or perhaps, he did not want to break the rapport of our current positions. Without revealing it, I was reveling in the extent of his suggestibility. The signs were predominantly subtle, to be sure - except for his continued use of "sir" whenever he addressed me. Time for the next step, I judged.
"I'm thinking that I'd like to make an attempt at that lemonade, Tritt. Join me?" I pitched my tone somewhere in the zone between question and direction. It worked. As I began to turn, I extended an arm toward his shoulder, not yet touching. Tritt nodded, coming naturally into the position I’d indicated for him; moreover, he fell into perfect stride with me as I started back along the pier toward the city. I hadn't waited for a spoken reply, but his action told me all that I needed.
When we reached the vendor - still open for business, though I judged not for much long that night - I ordered a medium for myself and then asked my companion, "What would you like?"
Officer Tritt turned to the vendor. "Do you have unsweetened?" Receiving an affirmative, he asked for a medium.
I paid for both, then handed the second to my companion. "Here you go."
"Thanks, sir."
He followed me as we moved toward the water where I stood with my back toward downtown, my face out over the lake. "You don't like sweetened?"
He shook his head. "I don't want all that sugar, and I'm allergic to DoubleSweet. It gives me migraines." I'd heard the same from a very few others. It seemed to be one of the more uncommon side effects. But it was revealing. Whatever tendencies toward submission that Officer Tritt had, he came by them naturally. All the more enticing. My successes here would be wholly of my own skill and merit.
It was quite clear to me by now what I intended to do. On some level, I was certain that Tritt either consciously wanted this direction, or else he was being seduced by the thought however unconsciously it might have been. Conversation was continuing on small matters, while I plotted my course. One more relational transition to test. Best to do it in a buffered manner: send mixed signals.
"How long have you been an officer, Jacob?"
"About three years, sir. Before that I was in the navy." The source of his submission training became clear. In fact, he'd volunteered it. Better and better at every turn.
"What did you do there?" By tone and body language were calculated to express interest -- which was honest and therefore easy. My eyes held his; my attention on him never wavered. Every ounce of my being, as they say, was aimed directly at him. Each expression, each motion was also designed to convey a continued sense of control and pleasure at his responses. I was certain that he would sense them, even without recognizing the cues he was receiving.
"Midshipman, sir. I took a try at the nuclear program, but that was a little beyond me.” This was a point where one would naturally have looked away, slightly shamed by the admission. That Tritt did not spoke volumes about his willingness to be weaker than the person he was addressing, of lesser stature. I was also pleased to see he was using the "sir" without hint of discomfort or self-consciousness. “I was moved around a little,” he added, “then eventually took my out when the time came."
I nodded to him, allowing him to take what approval from it that he would. It was time to move to a more comfortable venue. Best to phrase it as something more than an invitation, but short of a direction. A hint of confusion would work best. Peripherally, I noted a set of vacant tables to our left. "Jacob, I'd like to sit for a while. Yes?"
Saying no would have been denying that I wanted to sit. Tritt seemed to realize that. Perhaps he also sensed that he would have to part company if he didn't comply. I wasn't offering my own actions for debate; he nodded and followed me to one of the umbrella-covered metal tables. But with the sun setting down behind the city, the umbrella offered no cover. I sat with my back to the west and watched as the ruddy light of the setting sun struck his face. It must not have been very comfortable, but he weathered it well. Our eyes returned to their now-accustomed position. I brought our breathing into alignment. On a whim, I began to stroke the side of my cup. Even in the cooler air, water had begun to condense on it.
Taking a chance, I broke the eye contact. "This is my favorite place to come in the evening," I began, looking alternately into his eyes and away at our surroundings. "Its such a calm place, especially in the early spring or late fall. There are so few people here. There's a peace, a quiet that settles around you here. I'm sure you can feel it, Jacob."
He kept his attention on me, and had in fact begun to stroke his cup a little. His suggestibility truly was profound. Still holding to the formal form of address beyond any other reason than submission, he nodded. "Yes, sir, I think I can."
I wondered if the “sir” was a conscious choice on his part, or instinctive. Asking was, of course, out of the question. It would ruin the dynamic of the moment. He’d passed that final hurdle: Even when I'd switched to using Jacob he had persisted. Even being wholly familiar in my address of him, he had naturally opted to remain in a submissive or respectful position to me. As I noted his hand stroking his cup in time with my own, I knew: It was time to move ahead full steam.
I thought for a moment about the crystal hanging around my neck, but Tritt had not glanced at it once. Whatever interest he felt in submission was not linked directly with crystals or other common tools of hypnotism. It was the way he squinted in the light of the fading sun which offered my opportunity and means.
Continuing to stroke my cup lightly, I continued. "The autumn sunlight always feels so good on the body. The way it warms my back. You can feel that it on your face. Can't you. But then the glare must be a little hard on your eyes."
The squinting worsened, as it often does. Point out a discomfort to someone, and it inevitably increases. "I often like to sit in the sun,” I continued, Tritt listening intently, “and just let it warm me up. It can heighten your senses, I’ve found. You feel the wind all the more vividly. Sounds reach you and hold your attention." His eyes seemed to off-focus slightly; he was thinking about what I was saying, experiencing at my direction. "Go ahead. I don't mind if you close your eyes and give it a try." If he hadn't been facing the sun, he would have been less likely to follow the suggestion, but the combination of glare, my permission, and his own inclinations collaborated to assure his compliance. His eyes blinked and closed, and I watched as he relaxed in the glow of the late afternoon sun. The expression upon his handsome face was indescribably arousing. Even after he'd closed his eyes, his left hand stroked his glass absently. Lacking the rapport of continued eye contact and paired breathing, the repetitive motion I had started on would be eminently useful for aiding in the induction.
As a light breeze played across our bodies and through his pitch hair, I continued. "I know how it feels so well, Jacob. The way the wind brushes over you. Over your arms, over your legs. The way it plays with your hair. The sun is warm, so you can stay comfortable. But the light brushing of the wind... it's as if you can feel it taking all the tensions of the day away. Can you feel it?"
"Yes, sir. I think I can." His tone was a bit slower, a bit softer.
"Let yourself relax, Jacob. You deserve a rest, after all. I know how hard --" I was about to say how hard you work, but realized the trap that would spring considering the current professional relationship we also had -- "how hard you push yourself when jogging and exercising. Your body is strong and well-toned. But you have to learn to relax as well. Your body needs to rest now and then. And it always feels so good when you take the time." I gave him a moment to feel the sensation, then continued. "The breeze is still brushing over you; can you feel it?" He nodded. But I couldn't let him do that. Not yet. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you Jacob. What did you say?"
"Yes, sir. I can feel it." His brow knitted slightly, but he kept his eyes closed. Not much damage to repair, then.
"Great. I want you to be able to really enjoy the way it feels. Remember how I said it also attunes your hearing?" He seemed a little confused, so I decided to pick something for him. "The bell off to your left, out on a boat in the lake. Can you hear how that rings as the boat rides the gentle waves? It as a nice, steady rhythm, like the waves. But it rings so clearly in your ears. Can you hear it?"
He nodded, but automatically added, "Yes, sir."
His hand was still stroking the cup, its periodicity unconsciously slowed to match the chime. I thought about letting it continue, but knew that too many efforts at once might distract him. As much as I enjoyed the sensations it brought to mind, I knew that other things were more important at the moment. I would either have to take away his control of its motion, or still it altogether. Knowing the nature of our relationship beyond this pier, the former was too fraught with risk. It would have to be the latter.
"Jacob, I want you to listen to that bell now. Hear how as you let yourself relax, it grows clearer until it sounds like it's right here beside us. It's a relaxing sound. A boat lazily drifting in the water. Bobbing on the waves. The wind blows across the water, and causes those waves. It feels so great blowing across your skin. You're still warm, aren't you." It wasn’t a question. The sunlight was still on his face, but we didn't have much more of that to count on. All too soon the towering buildings far behind me would block it out. He said Yes sir.
"Jacob, don't you feel relaxed?" Again, Yes, sir. "And isn't it a good feeling... So calm and refreshing?" Yes, sir. "Your entire body becomes still and relaxed. Feel how your arms and hands rest now, calmly on the table.” He smiled, finally allowing the motion of his left hand to stop. Yes, sir.
I took a deep breath, one that he could hear, and he followed suit. “It's such a good thing that we ran into each other today, Jacob. Don't you think so?" Yes, sir.
I glanced out over the lake to the boat with the gently ringing bell. It continued to pull Jacob, as did the wind, deeper into his relaxation. His face, when I glanced back, was wholly at ease. I continued to talk to him about the relaxing feelings washing over him, the way each wave relaxed him. I tied in his own breathing to the things that would take him deeper. Without shifting my weight noticeably, I looked down at his entire body. He was beautifully sculpted, due no doubt to his own tireless efforts. I also noticed that, in spite of his deepening relaxation, not every portion of his body had grown slack. I had give him no directives in that area. He was truly a natural.
I let him sit that way, uninterrupted, for a good two minutes, our breathing the only connection he felt. Knowing I was still here with him, sensing my attention was still on him, he was taking himself deeper.
However much I would have loved to watch him sink deeper in silence, I knew subsequent steps required my attention. "Jacob, feel how the wind continues to brush your legs. Can you feel them relaxing your body with each touch? Your legs are becoming looser, more relaxed. Feel how the wind helps you to let go." I could see the way the corded muscles in his legs began to let go of their tensions. "The wind blows across your back and shoulders. Can you feel them relaxing, too?" Yes, sir, he murmured softly. "And through it all, the bell continues to chime, rocked gently on the gentle waves, born of the delicate breeze that blows across your body. Feel it massaging your arms, your neck. Feel how your neck relaxes." He shifted his neck, craning it slightly, and I heard it crack across the two foot span between us. Your neck and back are relaxing in the wind. Even your arms. Feel how well they are relaxing as the wind blows across them. The bell. Listen to the way it chimes for you as it bobs in the rocking waves. You feel yourself relaxing more deeply as you listen. Listen to the rocking bell. It fills your ears and it's as if you have nothing else to listen to. In fact, you don't even have to listen to my words any more. They just flow into your mind and drift out, leaving you all the more relaxed. They flow through your mind and leave you more relaxed. You can feel that, Jacob. Can’t you."
"Yes, sir," He repeated for what -- the tenth time, the twelfth time? I'd lost count. His body rose and fell before me with deep, restful breaths. His face, his body, hung slack in the profound relaxation that only a true trance can bring. He was under. I had no doubt.
I watched the way the wind played across the fine hair on his arms. Partially blocked by his body, it blew more strongly across the right. "Feel the way the wind continues to blow across your arms now, making them more and more relaxed. The right one feels the wind more strongly. Can you sense that?" Yes, sir. "Feel how it makes your arm relax, makes it know the gentle rocking of the waves. Your arm, just like the waves, begins to want to rise and fall. Can you feel the way your arm begins to rise like the waves in the wind? Your arm is becoming so light, it wants to rise like the tide beneath the winds." I hoped he wasn't particularly aware of nautical physics, because I'd just blundered a bit. He seemed blissfully unaware. As I continued to give direction, his arm lifted from the table and, in several uneven bobs of a classic hypnotic reaction, eventually floated a good six inches above the table. I spared a glance around me; there were few in the area, none sparing even a glance our way. Even so, I wouldn’t cause his hand to fall suddenly, or with a slap. Too much chance of drawing unwanted attention.
"Now, Jacob, the wind begins to settle, and you feel your arm drift slowly down again as the sun’s warmth continues to touch you. As your hand settles, you can feel how the sun, too has begun to leave your face. It felt so good on your face. Didn't it." Yes, sir. "And now that the sun has left, it no longer stirs the breeze. The breeze begins to slack, and your arm drifts down to the table. In fact, when it touches the table, you will feel sink deeper into this relaxation, this sleep. You know that, don't you, Jacob.” Yes, sir. "Feel how the wind continues to ebb, your arm sinking slowly." His pace was slower than expected. Worse, the wind had decided to pick the wrong moment to gust up slightly. I had to encourage his arm to sink. "In fact, Jacob, when I count to three, the wind will cease entirely. You will feel it cease, and your arm will fall the last few inches to the table. Do you understand?" Yes, sir. And when it falls, you will fall twice as deep into sleep. Warm. Comfortable. Relaxed." Yes, sir. "Good, Jacob. On three the wind will stop and your arm will fall. One. Two. Three." On cue, his arm fell to the table with a slight thump, and his body slumped ever so slightly forward.
"Jacob, how do you feel right now?"
"Warm. Comfortable. Relaxed."
Excellent. "Do you like the way you feel?" Yes, sir, he replied. "Do you feel safe, Jacob? Do you like being with me so that you can feel this way?"
"Safe. Yes, sir. I feel safe with you. Comfortable. Relaxed. Safe."
"I always want you to feel that way with me, Jacob. You know that now, don't you? And I'm going to show you how much your feeling comfortable means to me, Jacob. Would you like that?" Yes, sir. "That's good. You should always feel safe with me. Jacob, do you like the scent of roses?" He nodded, but added the ritual Yes, Sir. "Good, Jacob. They'll always help you to feel a little better, a little more relaxed, won't they?" Yes, sir. "That's right, Jacob. Now, Jacob, I need you to listen to me very carefully so you can always feel safe with me. That's very important to you, isn't it? We don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable and have to leave this wonderful feeling do we?" No, sir. "Of course not. Now Jacob, I never want to make you feel uncomfortable. But if I ever say something or ask you to do something that makes you feel uncomfortable deep down, something that threatens to stir you from this wonderful relaxation, I want you to smell roses. Do you understand?" Yes, Sir. Smell roses. "And when you smell the roses, you will immediately feel relaxed and comfortable. In fact, you will totally forget what I said that made you uncomfortable. It will be as if I never said it. Do you understand that, Jacob?" Yes, sir. "And the roses will smell so wonderful that you will feel compelled to tell me about them. You know that, don't you, Jacob." Yes, sir. “That's very good. Now Jacob, tell me about the roses. Why will you smell them and what will happen?" He recounted the directions accurately but in his own words. The safety had been installed. I’d reinforce it another time. If I was given the opportunity for another time, of course.
Next came the final steps. I took him just a little deeper, then thought about triggers. It was always so wonderful to say the words or make the preset motion, then see a man fall under your spell. Officer Jacob Tritt was ripe for mine. I chose carefully, directing that it must come from me, not someone else.
Then I took the closing steps. "Jacob, it’s been wonderful to relax here, hasn’t it? You enjoy this sense of letting go of everything that is unimportant. You do it everyday, the way you let go of little details, like what you had for dinner last Tuesday. It’s easy to let go and forget those unimportant things.
“And right now, you feel so wonderful, so at ease, that only one thing is important: How you feel right now, with me. You know that the rest of it, the words, the suggestions, aren’t worth remembering. You’ll remember how totally at ease you are with me, but the details aren’t important. You don’t need to think about them. They just are. You let them take you where you want to go, but you don’t need to think about them at all, do you?”
“No, sir. Forget.” There were no roses. He simply affirmed my direction.
"Good, Jacob. When I count to five, you will wake feeling wonderful and refreshed. You don’t even have to think about being hypnotized. You can consciously let go of my directions. But you will follow them, won't you?"
Yes, sir. Forget and obey.”
I reveled in the way the subjects responded, adding their own levels to my commands. "Very good, Jacob. When you wake, you will not be surprised that the sun has settled behind the city. You felt it happening, didn't you. It will be entirely natural. That’s right, Jacob. You will wake fully on the count of five." I paced my phrases carefully, watching him drift slowly upward. "One; you feel good. Two; you feel great. Three; you feel fantastic. Four; you feel refreshed. And FIVE.” Pause. “Did that help you de-stress a little?”
I watched the officer blink his eyes, sit straighter in his chair, and look me in the eye. "Man, was that ever great! I've never felt so relaxed in all my life!"
I smiled at him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You looked like you could use a little relaxation."
"You can say that again," he grinned at me. "Now I can see why people rave so much about having a good Patron!"
It didn't escape my notice that he had stopped using the word Sir in his replies. That is not totally uncommon. We had achieved a deeper level of intimacy, but to continue to use Sir now that he had been under would subconsciously detract from the depth we had shared a moment before. Actually, I prefer it this way. It heightens the sensation of capture when the appropriate time comes.
He glanced at his watch. "Shit. I really have to get going. My poor dog has been cooped up for too long!" Jacob stood and looked at me, trying to decide what to say. "Mr. DuVane, I'm really glad I ran into you. Considering everything, you've been really great. How can I ever repay you?"
The options danced through my head, but they were wholly inappropriate at the moment. "Nothing to repay, Officer. I was just doing my best for one of Chicago's Finest."
In spite of my own very clear desires to the contrary, I let him jog away and leave me there on the Pier. There would be time to play again with Officer Tritt.
The strangest thing about the encounter: I began to think I meant what I'd said. When this whole murder case blew over, I was looking forward to getting to know Jacob Tritt in much greater detail and depth.
END