Irina Stephanie Hypnotized Pakistani Girl

“I had guardedly high hopes for Stephanie,” Stefan dived and like a javelin from an Olympian’s hand, but underwater, he glided in an arc that had his chest brushing the pool’s bottom before surfacing at the far side, “but it is disrespectful for a protégé not to first consult with his mentor.”

After flipping the water from his hair, Stefan spied the entourage in the lobby. He was still drying his torso when he met Irina Stephanie at the elevator.  She was listening to binaural music.

“Either you are distressingly punctual,” the charming Stefan pressed the penthouse button, “or my much needed swim was overly lengthy.”

“Seemingly,” Irina the Pakistani lady offered, “both suppositions are true.”

“I am a man,” his Speedo swimsuit almost screamed that his gender claim was accurate, “so changing for our dinner won’t take but a minute.”

“One should never swim within a half hour of eating.” Irina casually took a seat to wait.

“Fortunately, it’s not so for the reverse as well.”

“Do you ever find it uncomfortable when hypnotized,” Stefan quipped as they entered an upscale Lahore restaurant, “when previously close confidants become,” a foyer feature was a path of flat rocks over a pond, “just steppingstones?”

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