Bound by Suggestion by L.L. Bartlett

He took me in when I got hurt last year. I also have a half-sister, ten years younger than me.”
    “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, her green eyes intent.
    I felt my face flush. “Not right now.”
    Silence descended.
    “Why don’t you tell Grace about your gift,” Krista said.
    I gave her a sour look. “It’s not exactly a gift.” I turned to Grace. “Sometimes I can sense things about people.”
    “Does it work with everyone?” Grace asked.
    “No.”
    Her gaze shifted. “Can you tell what Dr. Marsh is thinking?”
    “I don’t read minds. I sense feelings. Then, sometimes I know stuff. And I usually get a terrible headache.” I wanted her to know I wasn’t thrilled with this little experiment, either.
    “Why don’t you get a job at one of those psychic hot lines?” Grace asked. “You could probably make a lot of money.”
    “I don’t think they’re legitimate. Besides, I don’t get stuff over the phone. At least, I haven’t so far.”
    Quiet again.
    Krista finally broke it. “Living in fear is a terrible way to exist, Grace. I asked Jeff to join us because he’s a genuinely nice man—”
    Glad someone thought so.
    “and there’re lots of nice people—men—who’ll respect you as a person. You don’t have to fear all strangers. Together, we’ll work on helping you learn to trust again. What do you think?”
    Grace’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “I . . . don’t want to be alone forever. I’d like to meet someone who’d love me . . . just the way I am.”
    “It could happen,” Krista said, “if you let it.”
    I couldn’t envision some hunk taking on a woman in a wheelchair—and an unattractive one at that. But I did feel sorry for Grace. She looked so small huddled amongst all that chrome, more child than woman. She was the same age as my ex-wife Shelley when I’d first met her. Frail and vulnerable, whereas vibrant Shelley had oozed sex appeal.
    “Grace, we’ve already discussed how uncomfortable you’d feel touching Jeff, but it’s the only way he can help you. It would also be very painful for him to experience everything you feel without some kind of emotional buffer.” Krista paused, looking from Grace to me. “I propose we use hypnotism as part of this therapy. It’s a relaxed state of being that you’ve both experienced in the past. You’ll know everything that’s happening. You’ll remember everything we talk about, but it won’t be so emotionally charged. This way we can work without drugs, which you’ve both mentioned an aversion to. Are you willing to try?”
    “You make it sound too easy,” I said. “Can either of us back out if we feel it’s not working?”
    “Absolutely.”
    I glanced at Grace. “Then it’s up to you.”
    Everything about her—facial expression, body language—said she didn’t want to do this. She wanted to bolt, but she was a prisoner of her body, the chair—and the whims of her shrink. To gain an independent life, she really had no choice.
    “Okay,” Grace said, her voice small, frightened.
    “Great,” said Krista. “Then let’s get started.”
     
    After a stressful day of phone calls and hastily scheduled meetings with prospective donors, Richard’s bed called to him like a siren song. It had been almost two years since he’d had to charm deep pockets out of their money. He hadn’t lost his touch, but it was nerve racking now that the stakes were now personal. More than ready to slip between the cool sheets and turn off his brain, he switched off the bathroom light as Brenda drew back the quilted silk bedspread.
    “Did you tell Jeff?” Richard asked as he crossed the room.
    “Not yet,” she replied, getting into bed. She looked sexy as hell in that tight-fitting, filmy nightgown. Soon her expanding belly would strain against the seams.
    Richard switched off the beside lamp and climbed in beside her. “Why not?”
    “Because.” No one else would have noticed the strain in her voice.
    “Because