Rhonda was bikinicontestporn beginning to sway on her feet. She was having trouble maintaining her pose bent over him; if she didn't stand up, she'd fall over soon. Pleasurable as it might be to have bikinicontestporn her collapse on top of bikinicontestporn him bikinicontestporn, he bikinicontestporn wasn't, he decided regretfully, quite ready for that.
"No images, Rhonda," Paul bikinicontestporn said. "You won't tell anyone. Any time you try bikinicontestporn, you'll forget all about it before you say or write bikinicontestporn a bikinicontestporn word." He smiled maliciously bikinicontestporn. "And you'll take off your shirt and bikinicontestporn bra, too, and images keep them bikinicontestporn off for at least five minutes. Besides," the evil smile grew wider images, "even if I let you, what would you tell bikinicontestporn them?"
Rhonda bikinicontestporn shuddered, picturing herself bikinicontestporn trying to explain how bikinicontestporn just a few words from a patient had had her bikinicontestporn doing a strip act for him bikinicontestporn. She'd be lucky just to lose her job. "As for coming back here," Paul went on, "of course bikinicontestporn you will, if it's part of your normal duties. And you'll do everything you can to make bikinicontestporn sure bikinicontestporn it continues to be part of your duties, won't you?"
"I'm bikinicontestporn feeling bikinicontestporn a lot better, Doctor--" he bikinicontestporn squinted at the nametag on the doctor's coat--"Steiner." He bikinicontestporn laughed, then winced as his throat twinged. "I guess I was pretty out of it for a while bikinicontestporn after bikinicontestporn the bikinicontestporn surgery images."
"Perfectly normal," Dr. Steiner said. "Good news. We're still going over the tests, but bikinicontestporn early indications bikinicontestporn are that we got bikinicontestporn the bikinicontestporn whole tumor. If you're lucky, you bikinicontestporn won bikinicontestporn't need more than a mild course of chemotherapy."
Paul blanched . It hadn't worked! Was bikinicontestporn--whatever it was--gone? Or had it never been real at all? Had his puppeting of Nurse Rhonda been nothing more than an anesthetic-induced bikinicontestporn dream? He had to find out!
He bikinicontestporn got his chance shortly thereafter bikinicontestporn, when another bikinicontestporn nurse bikinicontestporn came in.
After a couple of minutes, Paul bikinicontestporn was satisfied. Jasmine was clearly under his control, just as Rhonda bikinicontestporn had bikinicontestporn been earlier.
It was bikinicontestporn possible, he supposed. He'd heard that the hearing ranges of bikinicontestporn men and bikinicontestporn women were slightly different, with women bikinicontestporn being more sensitive bikinicontestporn to higher frequencies than men were. If the bikinicontestporn "something extra" his images voice had bikinicontestporn gained were some magic high bikinicontestporn frequency, it might affect images men and women differently.
"You can unclasp your hands and bring your arms bikinicontestporn down now , Jasmine bikinicontestporn," he told her.
"Yes, Mr. Bennett bikinicontestporn," the nurse responded. She checked bikinicontestporn the room carefully, fluffed his pillows, and left, casting a last smile back at him bikinicontestporn. If she still had any memory of what images he'd done, she bikinicontestporn showed no sign of it.
There was another quote, from nineteenth bikinicontestporn-century Britain: "Power corrupts bikinicontestporn, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." His power wasn't absolute; his images inability to control bikinicontestporn men , for one thing, limited bikinicontestporn it. But it was bikinicontestporn great enough to offer plenty of chances for corruption.
He didn't have to wait bikinicontestporn long for his opportunity. He'd hardly had a chance to clock in and sit down bikinicontestporn at his desk when his bikinicontestporn phone rang. It was her.
"Paul," she said, "I need to speak with you for a few minutes, if you don't mind."
Suppressing the urge to ask her what she wanted to talk bikinicontestporn about--it bikinicontestporn didn bikinicontestporn't matter, after all, not now--he bikinicontestporn answered, "On my way, Ms. Sands." He got up and walked casually over to her office, opened the door and bikinicontestporn went in. Carefully, he bikinicontestporn shut the door bikinicontestporn behind him and sat down in the bikinicontestporn chair next to her desk.
"You understand, Paul," she said, struggling bikinicontestporn for bikinicontestporn cool detachment, "this doesn't change anything. Whatever bikinicontestporn just bikinicontestporn . . . happened here, I'm still your boss. Don't think bikinicontestporn you've bikinicontestporn gotten some kind of leverage with me."
Yes, sir, he thought to himself images as he gave his tie a final straightening tug before opening the images door, things were definitely looking up.
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