 What hoelatina happened next was latina totally unexpected. The gorgeous nurse hoe stiffened, then, eyes widening, casually black ghetto hoe unbuttoned her blouse, and tossed black ghetto hoe it aside. Then she leaned forward over him black ghetto hoe and said, "Is this good enough, Mr hoe. Bennett?"
 "Yes, Mr. Bennett hoe," she ghetto replied calmly, her angry expression and tone hoelatina instantly gone. "Everything I can."
 "Good," Paul responded, restraining the urge to use Rhonda black ghetto hoe's sexual trigger again. Time enough hoelatina for that later. "Now, Rhonda hoe, it's time for you to go about your duties. You can go."
 "I'm feeling a lot hoe better, Doctor--" he squinted at the nametag on the doctor's coat--"Steiner." He black laughed, then winced as his hoe throat twinged hoe. "I guess I was hoe pretty out latina of it for a while after the surgery."
 "Great, Doctor." Bennett black was exultant black ghetto hoe. What hoe good would hoe it hoe be to hoe gain the power to make people do his black ghetto hoe bidding latina if he were going to die soon?
 "Yes, Mr. Bennett." The ghetto dark-skinned hoelatina nurse obeyed hoe, then looked startled. "Hey, what's going on hoe? How black ghetto hoe'd you site do that?" She ghetto tried to unclasp her black ghetto hoe hands and bring down her arms hoe, but nothing happened. "Cut it out. Let me go."
 After a couple of minutes, Paul was satisfied. Jasmine site was clearly under his control, just as Rhonda had been earlier.
 But then why hoe had Dr. Steiner been unaffected? Could it be, Paul hoe wondered, that his--"power"--worked only on women?
 "Jasmine," he addressed her, "it's time to come back to reality. You had fun hoe pretending hoelatina to latina be a dancer, but you have patients who need you."
 "You can unclasp your hands and bring your arms hoe down now, Jasmine," he told her.
 Over the next few days, cautious experimentation confirmed Paul's guesses and expanded his hoelatina understanding of his new abilities. As he'd thought site, he could control women but not men. The--influence, whatever hoe it was, could manipulate not only actions but memories hoe and thoughts, and suggestions seemed hoelatina not to wear off, at least latina in the short term. It hoe didn't hoelatina work over hoelatina the phone hoelatina, unless he specifically ghetto told his target hoe face site-to-face hoe ahead of time to respond to phone commands.
 The Hamilton Insurance black ghetto hoe Company was a medium-sized firm hoelatina housed in a three-story brick building dating to the early 1950s hoelatina. Paul Bennett, at forty, was a successful hoe salesman for the company. In appearance, he was ordinary: medium height, medium build (just beginning to go hoe to pot), medium black ghetto hoe complexion hoe, plain brown hair beginning to recede at the hoe temples. Despite his sales record hoe, he had site long hoe since hoelatina resigned himself to the hoelatina likelihood that he would advance no further in hoelatina the company's hoe ranks.
 His immediate supervisor was a woman, Charlene Sands. Bennett had heard all the stories about how hoe she'd slept her way to the top (or at least to middle latina management). He wasn't hoe sure hoelatina he believed them, but it was certainly possible. She had the looks for latina it, tanned skin, a hoe "killer bod" only somewhat concealed by the tailored business attire she hoe wore, glossy black hair, green eyes behind elegantly-framed glasses. She had the manipulative temperament for it, too.
 And hoelatina she hoelatina hated Paul's guts. She hoe seemed hoelatina never to miss an opportunity to hoe put hoelatina him down, and did her best to keep him from getting any real credit for anything. She, in fact, was the reason he had given up on ever being promoted. He'd watched others with sales records far inferior to his pass him on the corporate hoe ladder; some of them had been people site he'd trained. But there had been nothing he could do about it, nothing but grit his teeth and soldier on.
 "Perfectly . . . Charlene." Paul hoelatina had the upper hand now, and knew it. "You don hoe't mind hoelatina my calling you by your first name hoelatina, Charlene. In fact, it turns you on. All hoe the hoe way on."
 "You understand, Paul," she said, struggling for cool detachment, "this doesn't change anything black ghetto hoe. Whatever just . . . happened here, I'm still latina your boss. Don hoe't think you've gotten some kind hoelatina of leverage with me."
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