O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Morning in the Pool of Nothingness

by PutU2Sleep

The early morning sun gradually permeates the hazy mist, and life in this secluded urban parkside oasis begins to stir. Ah, mornings like these are always so peaceful. As the celestial orbs move closer, warmth and tranquility replace the chill of the dawn. A retreat in the dead center of the city's hustle and bustle world, and yet with a feeling of being many miles away from anything and everything.

As the dawn approaches and spreads its wings, a man appears...or rather, he becomes visible. Was he here before? A phantom of the night, only now becoming reality? Did he sneak in with the clouds and remain when they dissipated? No matter. Seated there on a lone park bench, even he is a fixture adorning this picture of tranquility. Looking closer, the man barely moves. He seems transfixed on the pool of water weaving and swirling in front of him and near to the well-beaten footpath. Almost hidden from view, various streams of water converge, mingling silently to create this crystalline pool of swirling nothingness. See how the waters from the East, West, and North flow graciously into this pool, this small yet clearly visible spinning vortex of water. One would expect loud crashes of waves, water splashing the blades of grass that surround the defined embankment. But no noise is there...the equal forces of incoming water neutralize the possibility of voraciousness, and the pool results in a calculated, clockwise dance. In fact, water tumbles upon water and feeds the circles of depth, causing a visible whirlpool in this quiet spot. And the man sits, speaking as if only to himself, gazing deeply into the tiny center of the whirlpool, as if in trance and awaiting the inevitable moment when body becomes vapor, vapor becomes transparent, and the streaming steam of life is pulled through the air and deep, deep into the spinning whirlpool, nothing and no one left but air and water and welcome silence.

As you enter into this scene, you can't help but wonder just what this man is saying. Is it a chant? A prayer? A mantra to clear the mind and to refresh the senses, meant to remove all that is unnecessary and leave to mind only that which is pure and useful? Without even hearing exactly what the words are, you know that the man's age and wisdom are beyond compare...whatever the uttered phrases, you are drawn closer...you are drawn to and must be allowed to enter the inner sanctum of knowledge, knowledge of the wisdom and power of the man's transient voicings. Can't quite hear the words, but the lyrical quality of the sound is all that you live for. The peace and quiet is a surprise, just how quickly and completely it is able to cover you, enveloping you in a silky cloud of sensual, hazy pleasure.

Without your awareness, you have moved closer to the man. As the awaiting seat of the park bench looks stable and inviting, you approach and take your place, a seat seemingly meant solely for your occupation at the moment. Initial curiosity is replaced with a sense of deep relaxation as you begin to gaze deeply into the captivating whirlpool, mimicking the man's actions. Words, no words, phrases there and gone. He speaks but words are of no importance now. Only gaze, gaze deeply. Note the movement of the tiny burnt-orange leaf as it is drawn in spiral motion. It begins at the outer perimeter of the pool...your eyes, transfixed to the movement, follow in graceful, sweepingly large circular glances. Follow, follow...deeply you gaze as the gliding leaf becomes smaller, circling and distant, taking on an iridescent sheen as the light dances on its surface. Continuing to follow in more and more delicate circles, the leaf moves more closely to the center of the vortex. Your eyes, fixed to the movement and unwavering in the arduous task of remaining connected with the leaf, move in circular connection with the leaf. That's it...allow your eyes to follow each subtle movement, falling deeper into the rhythm of the pool. Hearing but not listening. What was that? No matter. Eyes so heavy, heavy, heaving deeply with each breath, so hard to see, so hard to follow, so hard to be connected, stay connected, spinning, falling, so hard to...to...

And you are gone. Floating in the waters of your mind, your eyes resting and tightly closed as your mind and body gently float on the circular waters of the voice. Gently, intoxicatingly lost, your body rests nestled in the folds of the spinning leaf, somehow reduced to a minimal size and allowed to float and dream and slip into a circular submersion...into all that is nothingness. Pure and complete nothingness. Time passes unnoticed.

You awaken to find yourself more peaceful and filled with more glorious tranquility than you could have ever imagined yourself to be. Still unwaveringly connected to the pool of water, still connected to the bench you sat on seemingly hours earlier. It is as though you are held to the seat with invisible bonds, unable to be released. And that is just fine with you...why would anyone ever want to leave this euphoria? Just as a residual wave of passion filters through your body, you notice that you are now alone on this bench. Clothes disheveled. Shirt unbuttoned and askew. The top button of your business slacks gaping and unattached, with your zipper edging South. You want to reach for the zipper, to close this shameful, unabashed public display of wanton neglect, but your arms are glued to the bench, set in stone as it were. And still no matter...this is where you must be, need to be, want to be, happy to be...to be...here.

You look briefly to your left, noticing that the odd man with the words (words?) has vanished. Look to the front. Notice that the man has appeared before you, now seated on a park bench equidistant from you, across from the pool and appearing on the opposite shore, as though he now sits parallel to you. He is your mirror image at this time, sitting on a bench across from the swirling pool, still appearing to be speaking to himself and gazing into the pool...gazing as you continue to be gazing. Gazing deeply. So tranquil. So happy.

But something has changed in the scenery you view across from you. The man continues his mantra to the gods of the swirling liquid underworld. You pause to note that his bench is surrounded by grassy patches, ultimate seclusion and high green shrubbery. What a perfect place to be, lost to the world and yet so close to it, here in this urban park...meant to be a private getaway for the weary city dweller and other passersby. While you remain relaxed yet pinned unavoidably to your seat, you notice a drama unfolding across the aqua sea of soundless movement. While the man continues to gaze into the pool, another man happens by. A young, athletic man. As the distance across the pool of water is not far, perhaps a few yards at most, you can easily view the activities. But it appears that you have entered a realm of invisibility, as far as they are concerned. The man gives no knowledge of your existence. And the other man, apparently an early morning jogger out for some physical escape, is dressed in minimal nylon jogging shorts, a tank top well formed and soaked from bodily secretions, sweat glistening from each manly and well toned pore, hugging the man's body without the slightest hint of discretion. The jogger has slowed on the path, appearing to see the seated pool-dweller man of mystery. He appears to also be drawn close. Ah, this must be the perfect place for the jogger to catch a short rest, allowing his body to recharge for the continuation of his morning run.

The jogger passes behind the seated man, so as to not disturb the seemingly necessary connection between the man and the pool of nothingness. He moves close to the empty seat and takes his rest, sighing appreciatively as his body melts into the glorious support of the park bench. You notice the jogger attempting a bit of small talk, but it is of no use...the man's mantra continues, and soon the jogger is resting in a world all his own. Peaceful breaths, relaxed, he spans the scene and eyes rest on the surface of the revolving pool. Is it imagination? Or can you see his eyes following a tiny speck of wood, drifting in a familiar circular pattern? The jogger now appears to be sinking down in his seat, his eyes still transfixed on the pool, his head and body moving in perfect union with the slight movements of the pool. In an instant, the jogger's head drops forward and his arms fall to his side...were his arms raised? No matter, his body caves in and conforms to the bench. It is amazing to be watching this spectacle of wonder!

The jogger begins to slide downward on the seat, his head inched down and cradled against the back of the bench, and his torso and pelvis also moved forward, almost at the edge and awaiting full release, where the entire body, a mass of complete relaxation, will be allowed to follow the natural progression of gravity and slip off into the patch of inviting grassland spreading in front of the park bench. In this position, the boy's sweaty shorts have naturally maneuvered their way up his body, now held tightly against the massive, fleshy muscles that are his well-defined thighs and groin. As the man with the mantra continues his verbal barrage of anti-words, the jogger appears to be reacting to some internal command. It is as though the jogger has been here before, playing this scene as if he owns it completely, but could that be?

The jogger, deep in trance and slipping further forward, is now obviously becoming aroused. What are the words causing this reaction? Has he no shame? You notice that the jogger has become so excited, a visible bulge of manliness has appeared to grow, snaking through the minimalist fabric of his shorts and appearing to reach down the left leg, his massive thigh a perfect pedestal for displaying this godly phallic work of art, now appearing and aching to jet to the heavens. Even from your vantage point, the boy's vibrations are evident. The jogger is titillated, entranced, unable to remain passively seated. Amazing to behold, as not one actual finger has been placed on the jogger, and yet his reaction would now plead to the contrary. To all appearances, it is as if the boy is being ravaged by the most wanton sexual advances, mouths and tongues engulfing him completely. His hands instinctively move upward to his torso, entering from beneath the sweat-soaked royal blue fabric and moving up to grasp a waiting and hungry nipple. So intrinsically overpowering is his need, the boy (still deep in slumber yet writhing in ecstasy) pulls his tank top up and over his head, his drenched blond hair now flowing freely downward, resting on brawny shoulders. Hands go wild! Still, no actual fingers have been placed to the boy's cock, though it now bounces wildly, his cock and balls having been pulled downward and hanging so low, as to be free of his shorts. The boy's body now levitates over the edge of the park bench. How can Mantra Man remain so still and motionless with this obvious eye-candy appearing so close within his reach? But only the mantra continues.

The boy is now man-handling both nipples, chest smooth to the touch and bronzed, displaying what appears to be a hint of Indian lineage indicating an exotic mix. The boy's tongue now wildly encircles his lips, lost in a world of full passion and abandon. How is it that the boy's cock moves so wildly? It is as though the man's words alone cause the boy to be sucked to the brink of spasm, then cruelly propelled downward into deep slumber, only to be rocketed back to the place of total excitement once again. At once, a word is uttered and the boy explodes, jism and man juice spraying freely into the air, first shooting outward and landing on the grass, then the cock slapping upward and spraying the now-glistening stomach and chest with warm, milky lubricant. Oh, to see this from so close is such a gift! You can hardly believe your eyes as you look on!

You see the boy suddenly go limp once again, sliding forward and falling the short distance to the awaiting, still-moist grass. His mouth now rests within tongue's reach of the cum that has recently shot there. Another word is uttered, and the boy stands, as though awaiting further commands. The seated man continues to speak in a low voice, and the boy obediently retrieves his tank top and places it haphazardly around his shoulders. In the act of standing, the boy's dick has now come back to its normal resting place, almost hidden within the lycra prison once again. The man utters another word, and the boy springs to life. His eyes open, a slight look of confusion on his face as he awakens and gingerly brushes his hand across his now-bare chest. He glances at the man briefly, appearing to say something which remains unacknowledged by the man, and then the boy turns and begins his run once again. He disappears down the path and out of sight. Is he not aware of what he has just done? How can that be?

You look down, and for the first time, you notice that your shirt has been removed and is resting neatly around your shoulders, bare chest and nipples now exposed to the morning sun. And the grass before you appears wet and mussed with stickiness. You wonder...but no, that is not possible. Or is it? Well, no matter. Whether you remember it or not, you are having the time of your life!

Suddenly, you realize that someone is speaking. You are not exactly sure who it is, as you don't notice anyone nearby. Of course, the man stays seated, nearly motionless across from you, chanting away to himself, as usual. (That silly mantra of his!) But you wonder where that other sound is coming from? Your attentions return to the mysterious man seated across from you. For the first time, you notice that he is no longer staring at the pool, but directly at you. While this is rather odd and unsettling, it is also very intriguing to you. "Why is he doing that?" you think to yourself. As your gaze is now welded into his, looking deeper into the reflections of the swirling pool in his eyes, you also note that you are drinking in every detail that is the man. The two voices (Where is that other person speaking from, damn it?!) drone on in your head. Back to the man...wow, he is odd! But there is just something about him. Rather slight of build he is, probably mid to late forties or so. Graying of his once-black hair, short and neatly cropped. At least he knows how to take care of himself. Non-descript, really. But somewhat nice to look at. He is dressed in black jeans and a dark green Oxford button-down shirt, with loafers and no socks on. How preppy. That is odd, but you know how some people dress...like their closets somehow ceased to evolve, somewhere in the 80's. But no bother, he wears it well. Actually, he is kind of cute. You would like to get to know him more sometime. Perhaps you will then be able to understand what he is saying, instead of all that infernal mumbling. And still that other voice...what is it saying? You finally make out the words, although the result is shocking. "I AM YOURS." "I AM YOURS." "I AM YOURS." And most surprising of all, the other voice you hear is none other than your own! Now this is totally strange!

You attempt to deviate from your submissive mantra, but your voice grows all the louder and more concentrated! Your own voice drones on, continuing this mantra as though the words have been ringing in your mind forever. You look back to his eyes...still cutting deeply into you. "I AM YOURS." Your voice echoes the familiar refrain again, continuously, monotonously, unstoppable. Yet, the feeling of your own voice pleases you. It is as though each word causes a rush of endorphins to shoot up your spine and fill your head with the most delicious intoxication. Can't stop. Won't stop. Can't stop. Love the feeling. Love the submission. Want more. Must have more. Need more.

And suddenly the eyes release you. The man appears to have tired of you, of holding you in his visual grasp, and he has now returned to the circling currents of water. A small glass ball appears, floating along the surface and dancing with the waves, always drilling deeper to the center of the whirlpool. It is about 3 inches in diameter, this little translucent marble-like glass balloon, like those ancient globes used to carry nets in tiny, forgotten fishing villages, but smaller than most normally found. With a blue-green essence, a sheen of light is captivated by its surface, and you feel impulsively drawn to it. The shimmer of this new visual bauble demands your complete attention. The voices fade into the background...a whisper now, really. As you continue to follow the glistening sphere traveling in repetitive circles, you are forever drawn into its web...so enticing! Around and around, so dizzyingly seductive. Pulling you closer. Pulling you deeper. Drifting now. Drifting deep. So deep into the splendor. So deep into submissive ecstasy. You glance up, reminiscences of his fiery eyes and the masterful hold they once had on you still vibrating to the core of your being. But his eyes have wandered elsewhere and you are drawn back into the center of the liquid universe. You see him there, waiting peacefully across the span of water. But he fades into background as your water bondage continues.

A voice behind you rings out, permeating the silence. You glance up to see a man in full uniform speaking to you. A questioning look on his face and a defensive manner, obvious in his tone. He asks again, "Just what do you think you are doing here?"

You try to answer, but your mind goes blank, the sleep of the dead. Words...so many words...what to say?

Suddenly, your voice begins. No thoughts (to your knowledge) have prompted these words, yet the voice is unmistakably your voice. You have somehow arrived to this conversation on autopilot, your voice and words coming from outer space and manifesting as a response to the young policeman questioning you. "Officer," your voice utters, "I have just been enjoying the park. It is so peaceful here."

He moves a bit closer to you, surveying the surroundings and aware that something other than ordinary has been happening. "May I see your driver's license?" he states.

The voice in your body begins again. "Absolutely, officer. I will get it for you right now." You feel your body rising and turning to face the young officer, his brown hair and curls indicating a fine Italian line and a masculine physique. You reach for your wallet and slowly draw it out as the voice continues. "Here is my license, officer. Have I ever seen you here before? I do come here quite regularly, but I have never seen you here. You would remember being here if you had been, as you always feel so relaxed when you are in this place. Amazing the total relaxing effect this place has on you now isn't it, officer?"

He looks down at your outstretched hand and wallet, reaching for it. You then notice that, although his hand is reaching for the wallet, his eyes have intrinsically moved upward and are now locked with yours.

Your voice continues. "Yes, I love it here. You will find my license to be all in order now. This little garden can be quite a peaceful, calm spot to be in now."

The officer attempts to look down again to the license and notices that your right hand has grasped his left hand, now locked only by the wallet between. But he remains firm and connected, his eyes returning to full attention to you, your eyes now looking deeply into his. He is appearing as quite the little puppy dog now, defensiveness draining more completely from his face with each breath.

"Officer, I am glad you are here now, as it appears you need a nice rest as well." You begin to move the wallet in tiny, concentric circles, and his hand willingly accompanies yours. "Here, just breathe deeply and continue to look into my eyes as you relax now. That's it, so nice and peaceful now."

His mouth gapes a bit, slack-jawed and adorable. His eyes still have an inquisitive bent, but that appears to be melting away. You reach out with your other hand, slowly...cautiously but with definition...and you firmly place your free hand on his shoulder. Both of you are now standing face to face, eyes locked, with your voice the only element adding to the serenity of the moment. Locked in a permanent ethereal waltz, as it were.

He attempts to speak. "Now, where...um...when were you here this...um...this morning when...I...when I saw you...you here...when I saw you this..." His voice trails off as your firm grasp on his shoulder has now begun to move his entire body in small circles, following your eyes and succumbing to the dance you initiate. Your voice cuts in and overlays that of his own.

"Now, officer, just relax here...you know you want to relax now, so easy to breathe deeply of this wonderful air, so easy now to relax now and drift now to a sleep now overcoming your tired body, your heavy eyes, your heavy arms, so deep and heavy your body now, your eyes heavier, so relaxed, just drift and let go, drift now, that's it, drift deeply, so comfortable, so safe and secure, so safe...go deep now."

His body is now moving at one with yours, bodies moving in a circular tango yet feet planted firmly. The man's musculature has become so wonderfully pliable, following your every move and melting into your firm grasp, yes melting so deeply into your eyes and control that there is no release in sight. Your voice continues.

"Breathe deeply and relax, relax now...eyes so heavy, so tired. Trying so hard to keep your eyes open...trying hard, eyes heavy, closing, closing, heavy, deep, closed now...closed tight and deep."

His eyes, having fought valiantly to remain connected to yours, finally lose the battle and drift off...defeated and happily at ease with the loss.

"Officer, that's it. So peaceful. Just let go and relax now. Go deep now."

By now, his arms have fallen limp to his sides and you have placed your wallet back where it belongs. You have moved both hands to their rightful place on his manly shoulders. His body sways with you in perfect unison. You step closer to him, both steadying him and allowing yourself full access to his body. You move one hand to his back, with the other hand remaining transfixed to his shoulder, encompassing him in the power of your grasp. His willing body is yours, muscle and perfect manhood in complete matrimony with your hands and body. As relaxation continues to drip through his mind, as if coursing through the veins of his body, your voice continues to drone on as your mind listens, attentive and in awe.

"Ah, it feels so good to relax now, officer. My touch on your shoulders and body will only take you deeper into sleep now, so relaxed, so much at ease. Each breath allows you to drift deeper now, each second lowering you to the next deep plane of relaxation. Each movement of your body works in direct correlation with your mind, deep and peaceful, drift now, deep into wonderful Sleep Now."

With a sudden pull of both hands toward you, the policeman collapses into your awaiting arms, legs strong and connected to the ground, yet body full and sensuous, laid out face forward across your bare chest and in full relaxation.

"Officer, please open your eyes and sit down on this bench. Even with your eyes wide open, your body and mind continue to drift further, deeper into serenity." His eyes open and he moves to seat himself, as you guide him. NO resistance at all...full compliance. A look of peacefulness on his face.

"That's right, officer. Notice the ball of glass, circling the whirlpool in front of you? Just keep your eyes on it, not wanting to be released from it. With each time the ball circles the whirlpool, speak aloud the word "Sleep" and you will obey your own voice, going deeper and deeper with each revolution of the floating ball." As the young man sits, glued as it were to his commanded focal point, his voice utters the deep sleep command continuously, and his body and mind willingly comply.

While he continues to speak the word of complete sleep, you can now assess his body in more detail. Just having felt his willing frame melt into yours, you know that his body is made entirely of muscle. Tight and compact, this Italian stallion is yours, just waiting to be tamed. He's 20 if he's a day. Boy, policemen are getting younger and younger! The sight of his eyes, struggling to follow the ball while his voice overrides any other thought, bringing deeper sleep than ever imaginable...well, seeing him be willingly drawn into the vaporous cloud of sleep is more exciting to you than ever. Finally, the words he utters trail off and his eyes drift closed once again, his body slumped completely and deliciously.

Carefully, you remove the waist belt, gun holster and nightstick from his body, laying them to the side of the bench. His body moves intuitively as you position him, like the Ken Doll you always dreamed of as a child, but much more anatomically correct than ever existed in your early memories. You look around briefly, assuring that no one else is in sight. Only the man, chanting in his own little world across the water, is evident. Your attentions return to the awaiting god before you.

"Please listen closely to my voice, officer. The relaxation you feel now will only increase with each breath you take. Each and every sound continues to sink you deeper into that wonderful blanket of sleep. What is your name, officer?"

"Sal," he says softly.

"Ah, good, Sal. I am going to be asking you a few questions and asking you to follow my requests. I know you will want to follow each request fully and to answer each question truthfully, to the letter of the law. Tell me, Sal. What brings you here, to this secluded part of the park today? Remember, even deeply asleep, you are fully capable of speaking clearly."

In a deep, clear baritone voice, Sal begins to speak. "I was asked to check out the park, as there were some reports of possible suspicious activities happening here. This is not my normal beat, but the officer normally assigned here is off duty today."

"Very good, Sal. What sort of suspicious activities did you hear of?"

"Sexual stuff, indecent exposure. Mostly man on man stuff."

You think for a moment before you reply. "Sal, I thought that policeman normally work in teams. Where is the rest of your team today?"

"I didn't bring a team with me today."

"So, you are alone? Tell me, Sal. What would you do if you noticed any activities here?"

From deep slumber, the officer speaks. "Yes, I am alone. Well, I am supposed to find out what is going on and then arrest the perpetrators."

"Do you want to arrest anyone today? It is such a peaceful day."

"No," he answered quickly.

"Okay, Sal. Have you ever seen any man on man action?" (This is getting interesting!)

"Yeah, I have."

"Where did it happen?" you question.

"At my brother's house. He didn't know I was watching when his buddy came over and they went to his bedroom."

"When did this happen, Sal?"

"Four years ago."

"Okay, Sal, I am going to take you on a trip through time. I am going to begin snapping my fingers, and with each snap you hear, you will instantly be transported to a time and age one year younger. Do you understand?" He nodded from deep entrancement. Four snaps later, I had him right where I wanted him. "Sal, how old are you now?"

"Seventeen," he said, his voice a bit higher and more unsure than before.

"Very good, Sal. I want you to move in your mind to your brother's place. It is a time just minutes before you notice some sexual stuff happening. Tell me what you are seeing."

Sal takes a deep breath, and the smile/snicker on his face tell you that he is catching a great show in his mind's eye. "My brother Terry is watching TV, and his buddy comes over. I like Mike. He's always nice to me. They're going upstairs while I am watching The Simpsons. They go into Terry's room, but the door isn't all the way shut. I'm looking into the room, and I see them taking their clothes off. Terry is sitting on the bed, and Mike is kneeling down in front of him. They've both got big boners." Sal smiles really big.

"Go on, Sal. What else are you seeing? Tell me what you are thinking as you watch."

Sal begins to squirm in his seat, and the crotch of his regulation uniform pants seems to be straining with rather obvious excitement. "Mike is putting his mouth on Terry's woody. Both of them are kinda moaning and really excited. I have never seen this before, and it's getting me turned on."

"Very good, Sal. Now, I am going to cause something really great to happen to you. Everything that is happening to your brother, at exactly the same time it is happening to him, the same thing will be happening to you at the count of three. One, two three." You reach down and unbutton the young officer's pants, pulling them down and showing the regulation white jock strap. "Sal, tell me everything that is happening to Terry."

"Mike is sucking on him and...OH! MAN!" As Sal describes the first blow job he has ever witnessed, you are now taking his protruding cock into your mouth and sucking ferociously, your hands and mouth working on your favorite kind of Italian sausage. "Terry is going crazy. Man, that feels great! Sucking, wow!" You can see that Sal is vibrating toward a major eruption. Just when you know the officer is about to shoot big-time, Sal continues. "Now, Terry is turning over and taking Mike's dick in his mouth." Who are you to complain? You stand up, pull down your pants and shorts, and then Sal starts sucking on you. Not bad for a beginner. Sal is devouring you, moving up and down and licking a lot. Pre-cum is dripping down the pant legs of his uniform. (Boy, that is going to be hard to explain to the boys back at the precinct.)

"Sal, I'm going to snap my fingers again. This time when I do, you will be transported instantly back to the park and back to the age you were when you got out of bed this morning. You will remain calm, safe, and still deeply in trance." SNAP! Your throbbing dick pops out of Sal's mouth as he collapses back onto the park bench, a smoldering molten pool of testosterones just begging to be released. "Sal, breathe deeply and relax. When you got to the park today, what did you want to find?"

"I don't know. Somebody to suck me or somebody to fuck." Okay, so Sal has been around the block a few times since he was seventeen! You continue to speak with the officer. "Sal, stand up and put your clothing back on. You may open your eyes if you need to, but you will not awaken until I have commanded you to do so." Sal shakily stands, teetering a bit as he pulls his pants back up and fastens his shirt inside his pants. You realize that neither of you have cum yet, but there will be plenty of time for that on future visits to the park.

Once the officer is fully dressed and staring blankly back to the swirling center of the pool, you fasten his belt and "toys" around him again, hopefully back to where they were before. You regroup your own clothing, fastening shirt buttons and pants back to a respectable position, with jacket once again resting on your shoulders. You turn his willing body toward yours once again.

"Sal, you may close your eyes now and continue to relax." He closes his eyes and allows his body to melt once again, falling forward as you catch his body and steer him into the bench once more. "Very good, Sal. When you awaken, you will see the pool and know that this is the most wonderful, relaxing spot you have ever seen. You have been having a pleasant conversation, and you are going to continue your morning beat. Nothing to see here, and nothing suspicious noted. You WILL be back here daily, as you will adopt this section of the park as a part of your regular beat, to be visited alone only. And when you find the address and phone number in your pocket, you will know that the number must be called and the address must be visited, once your daily routine has ended. It will simply seem the right thing to do, and you will know that you have already planned and agreed to go to that address. Now, at the count of three, awaken feeling totally refreshed and happy to be alive. The post-hypnotic suggestions I have given you will remain constant and strong, only to grow stronger as the days go by. One, two, three..."

The officer awakens with a start, and a smile spreads across his face. "So, Sal, you can see that all is normal here. You did say your name was Sal, didn't you? Well, nice chatting. I am sure I will see you around."

And with that, the officer stands and continues his walk through the park. You know that, when the night comes, Sal will make a wonderfully amorous plaything, just as you suggested. And he will be quite ready for the release you have in store for him.

So, what does the mystery man think of all this excitement? You mentally pat yourself on the back, proud that you were able to be quite the little hypnotist, though you can't quite remember ever having learned that skill. You turn your attentions to the other park bench, the one where Mantra Man has been all day. And as you look closely, you realize that the reflections in the pool and the noon-day position of the sun have caused the most interesting thing... you come to a surprising realization...the pools of water have been reflecting images across the way, but those images were mirror sketches of your own bench. For one last fleeting moment, you raise your hand in a sort-of salute, sort-of waving gesture to the man across the pool from you. And, in keeping with the moment, the man raises his hand as if to return the favor, and he vanishes instantly into the mist. Vapor, water, clouds, fog burned to sunshine. Call it what you will, but these early morning jaunts can certainly play tricks on a guy's psyche.

You stand and look around one last time. Only one pool, only one bench, only one grassy, secluded area. You bend to the water and retrieve the shiny glass bauble that has brought you so much pleasure through the years. Placing it within the confines of your jacket, you turn and slowly exit this scene of relaxation. You whistle softly to yourself as you go on your way.

It is hard sometimes to leave this wonderful spot. But you will return again, as usual. You always do. And until that time, Sleep Well.

END

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