Enchanted Again

by Nancy Madore

  Joined with the unsettling frustration was a disturbing mixture of pungent revulsion and painful desire. The two emotions battled for control within her, finally leaving her with such a feeling of jealous longing that in that moment she actually abhorred Brenda. She bitterly wished it were she who knelt on that table, and she resented the forces that caused it not to be so. Her desire was so acute and palpable that she could almost imagine she felt the cold, hard table beneath Brenda’s hands and knees. She watched impotently as the sculpture was powerfully and unrelentingly thrust in and out of Brenda’s exposed body. Without a whisper of hesitation it mercilessly propelled the sculpture back and forth, with its whirring engine turning round and round all the while. Dan remained back near the controls of the mechanism, with his hand clasped firmly over the lever, moving it steadily but ever so slowly, so that the continuous thrusts of the arm gradually increased in speed. Throughout Brenda remained motionless, apparently helpless to move against its power. She seemed helpless to move away from or stop the unrelenting thrusts of the machine.

  Claire could not drag her eyes from the sight of the sculpture being propelled in and out of Brenda’s pinioned body. She watched Brenda tremble and shudder as she was obliged to accept the machine-driven phallus into her body again and again, and at an alarming force that no ordinary human could achieve. She wondered that Brenda could endure it, even as she yearned for it herself. She was aroused to the point that she couldn’t even move. She could only continue to stare through the basement window, amazed and aroused and wickedly envious. Every new nuance of the event that she was able to capture caused her more discomfort. She could perceive Brenda’s euphoric response even without being able to hear her cries of ecstasy. Brenda’s demeanor as she quivered vulnerably at the receiving end of Dan’s powerful machine was more telling than words. Claire could also observe that the thrusts from the machine were indeed powerful, for the flesh all around Brenda’s opening pulsated violently from the force of each and every thrust, and the lips of her labia clung fervently to the irregularly carved material of the phallic sculpture. Claire noticed all of these things, and each new little observation increased her own arousal.

  At one point Claire did finally manage to pull her gaze from the tantalizing image of Brenda’s body accepting the thrusts of the sculpture to look once again at the amazing mechanism at work. Her eyes traced slowly along the length of it, wonderingly, longingly, and eventually they fell upon the man operating it. And she saw that Dan was watching her!

  Jarred from her stupor, Claire jerked her head back and away from the window. Panic flooded her insides and made her suddenly hot. She sprung up from where she had been kneeling in the grass and ran at full speed across the yard and through the woods to her car. Dan had caught her watching. She wondered what her expression had been while she watched.

  Claire got in her car and began driving but she did not want to go home. Nor could she bear to visit the diner. It suddenly occurred to her what Dan was most probably doing at Maggie’s house that night. She wondered how many other women benefited from Dan’s services. What a bizarre situation it was! These were Claire’s thoughts on the surface of her mind, but beneath them there still stirred the conflicting emotions that had assailed her since that first package was left in her mailbox. Dominating every other emotion was a yearning that was driving her to distraction. She rode out of Anamoose and headed south; traveling through one town and then another while attempting to find some measure of calm.

  Eventually the road had its effect and Claire felt sufficiently soothed to return to Anamoose. The long drive back further depleted her so that when she arrived home at last, she was too exhausted to feel much of anything. It was pitch-dark when she turned into her driveway, but she could clearly see Dan’s truck parked there. Her entire body came alive at the thought of speaking to him.

  Dan was sitting in his truck, with the driver’s-side window down. The manner in which he parked made it necessary for her to walk by his open window in order to get to her house. She stopped when she reached him. She didn’t speak, only looked at him.

  “How’s it working?” she heard him ask. It was so dark that she could not fully make out the details of his face. Only his glassy blue stare stood out clearly, which almost had a luminous quality at night.

  “How dare you,” she choked out in a low voice. She could not begin to give words to the feelings of outrage she felt over his audacity, nor could she come close to telling him how much she needed him to be even more audacious in order to stop the painful aching between her legs. And aside from all of this, she knew that he knew that the long metal arm that connected the sculpture to the mechanical base was missing from the parts he had sent her.

  “I was just following up on the job I did to your water heater,” he said with a small smile. It was the first time she had observed even the slightest amusement in his expression.

  “No, you were not,” she said.

  At this he laughed out loud. “You don’t have to use it, you know. Throw it out if you want to.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

  “Or,” he continued slowly, “you could let me help you enjoy it to its fullest potential.”

  “You are a pervert,” she told him forcefully, but her voice was clearly full of anguish and she blushed.

  “You seemed to like what you saw today.”

  “Why do you do it?” she asked, suddenly allowing her curiosity to come to the fore. “What do you get out of it?”

  “Pleasing women is my fantasy and my pleasure. They don’t have to do anything but allow me to watch while they get pleasure. Best of all, they don’t have to feel embarrassed or guilty. Who cares what ‘Desperate Dan, the dirty old man’ thinks?” Claire blushed when he recited the rhyme. Dan didn’t seem fazed by it in the least.

  “Is Maggie one of your…recipients?” she asked.

  “You were the one spying on Brenda,” he reminded her. “No one will ever learn anything about you, or any woman, from me.”

  There followed an uncomfortable pause. He seemed to be waiting for her to reply. But Claire remained silent. It was all too new, and her sense of values was still so genuinely offended that any overture would have left her feeling debased. She fervently wished that it did not have to be her who made a step forward; if not for that she might gladly acquiesce to what he was suggesting.

  “Suit yourself,” he said at last, but he said the words gently and without anger. Claire watched him drive away, feeling suddenly inconsolable.

  She avoided leaving her house for nearly a week. During this time she worked practically nonstop, infused with a strange energy that never seemed to burn out. The sculpture had somehow made its way from her closet to a new hiding place deep within the folds of her bedsheets, where it remained buried until those times when she reached for it and then the soft, malleable material suddenly came to life. It thrilled her to know that it was created for her by Dan.

  But at long last, when she could evade the world no longer, Claire left the house in order to attend to some of the things she had been neglecting. One of these was the typing she had left with Brenda. She completed all of her other errands first before making her way down the quiet country road where Brenda lived.

  “I’ve been worried about you,” Brenda said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Claire. “I was going to call, but I’ve been so busy.” Claire was taken back by the naturalness Brenda demonstrated with her. Clearly Dan had not informed her of Claire’s violation of her privacy. She had never really worried that he would, but was nevertheless apprehensive about the prospect of seeing Brenda again. Under Brenda’s guileless demeanor it was easy to slide into the old friendship that was developing and, if not forget then at least set aside, her surreptitious knowledge of how the woman spent her days when her children were away at school and her husband was far off in another state driving his truck.

  Having so painlessly achieved all of her objectives thus
far, Claire felt strong enough to venture once more into Maggie’s diner. She was strangely excited, in fact, when she drove into the parking lot and noticed Dan’s truck parked outside.

  Once again, upon her entering the restaurant, there came a volley of greetings, inquiring where she had been all these days and how she was feeling. She realized with a start that it was the first time in her life that she had been missed. Her cheeks grew pink with pleasure. She stood at the bar to speak with Maggie.

  Dan rose up from his booth in the corner and stood close behind Claire as he handed his bill and some money to Maggie. Claire could feel the warmth of his body where he stood so near her. She knew his blue gaze was fixed on her. Her heart pounded ludicrously inside her chest. She felt as if her tongue was choking her. She remained silently immobile while Dan concluded his business with Maggie and turned to leave. Something inside her cried out. Her pride fought it down, but only for a few seconds before it returned with double strength.

  “Dan!” she heard herself call. She turned and he did, too. Her heart was pounding and she knew this was a life-changing moment for her.

  “That other…thing…for the water heater…” She looked into his blue eyes urgently.

  His tone was casual. “Yes, I remember,” he prompted.

  Her heart hammered painfully. She tried to match his casual tone but failed. “I would like to have that fixed as soon as you can manage it.” Her voice sounded much too eager, she noticed, but the discomfort this caused her was nothing compared to what she would feel if she did not settle this with him right now.

  “I can be over there this afternoon.”

  She could have wept. Working hard to check her emotions, she turned back to where Maggie stood watching her. She sat back down on the bar stool and met Maggie’s eyes. There was no suspicion or censure of any kind in Maggie’s expression. The ladies exchanged smiles.

  This was, at last, the place where she belonged. Claire was finally home.

  GEORGIE PORGIE

  Georgie Porgie, puddin’ and pie,

  kissed the girls and made them cry.

  When the boys came out to play,

  Georgie Porgie ran away.

  Daphne reluctantly placed the phone on its receiver. She could not leave Georgie another message, and yet, why didn’t he call her back? She picked up another cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. She realized she had just put one out and reminded herself for the millionth time that she needed to quit smoking. Perhaps her appointment with the hypnotist Thursday would help. She didn’t hold out much hope, but the friend who recommended the woman insisted she could work miracles. At this point, Daphne would try anything.

  Her mind flashed back to Georgie. She was genuinely confused. He had seemed so sincerely interested in her, pursuing her so relentlessly that, when she finally gave herself to him, she thought for once she had gotten it right. And that night with him had been magical. But here she was three days later, and still no word from Georgie. Her mind could not accept that she had been so thoroughly duped.

  Against her better judgment, Daphne ultimately found herself driving by Georgie’s favorite bar. She had to go out anyway, she reasoned, for more cigarettes. She pulled into the parking lot and drove up and down in between the rows, looking for Georgie’s car. But it wasn’t there, and she began to wonder if something might have happened to him. This thought seemed infinitely more preferable to his dumping her after getting her into bed. She began to reason that it was far more likely that he had been incapacitated in some way than that he had gone through all the trouble of seducing her for a single night of sex.

  With this same utilitarian logic, it did not seem entirely out of line for her to go to Georgie’s house. In fact, it seemed rather uncharitable not to. The least she could do was to check on him and make sure that he was okay. He may be sick, or in dire need of help, and here she was offended that he didn’t call. As she drove in the direction of where Georgie lived, she persuaded herself that she was doing the broad-minded and practical thing.

  Even so, Daphne hesitated once she reached the parking lot of Georgie’s apartment building. What if he really didn’t want to see her? But her apprehension was squelched by a surge of excitement when she spotted his car. He was home! Her adrenaline ran high in anticipation of seeing him. She felt incapable of controlling her own actions. Yet she lingered in her car, lighting up another cigarette. She stared thoughtfully up at his building as she blew smoke rings out the window. She felt she ought to have an excuse of some kind for coming, but could think of nothing plausible. Everything that came to her mind seemed ridiculously transparent. Had she by chance left her missing earring there? That sounded pathetic, even to her ears.

  I will simply tell him the truth, she told herself, purposefully opening the car door and making her way to his apartment. Her heart thudded vigorously at the thought of seeing him again, and whatever she ended up saying to him seemed trivial by comparison. Surely he would be as delighted to see her as she was to see him, and words would not be necessary. Without pausing for further deliberation, especially any that might lead to a change of heart, she hastily knocked—perhaps a bit too loudly—on Georgie’s door.

  Daphne heard movements from within the apartment and suddenly had second thoughts. But it was too late to escape, for she was standing in the middle of a long hallway and she could see that someone was already turning the doorknob. She actually jumped when the door flew open and Georgie appeared. He was undressed except for a pair of gray shorts, and his black wavy hair was tousled all around his head. His dark eyes registered surprise at first to see her, but then she thought she detected annoyance creeping into his expression. From behind him, she could easily make out the form of a woman, also scantily dressed in ruffled underclothes.

  “Daphne,” he said after a minute, as if he was just recalling her name. But she was already seething with indignant anger.

  “Well, I guess this answers my question,” she said in a shaky voice. But the implied clarification did not prompt her to leave. She looked at Georgie tragically. “Why?”

  Georgie sighed, as if bored. “Why what?”

  “Why all the pursuing? Why all the games? You can’t have done all that just to get me into bed that one time?” She was incredulous.

  Georgie cast a quick glance at the woman standing quietly behind him. “Please don’t turn this into an ugly scene,” he murmured.

  “How dare you!” Daphne screamed. There were sounds coming from surrounding apartments, and she was aware that she was losing control, but she no longer cared. “You are a sleazy, no-good, manipulative—” The door slammed shut in her face before she could finish.

  Daphne stared at the closed door in shock. She was trembling with rage and disbelief. She had an urge to kick the door but she resisted it. She stood there for a long minute before turning to leave. A woman was peering at her from a crack in a door that was slightly ajar. She walked dejectedly down the long hall and left Georgie’s apartment building.

  Back in her car, Daphne lit up a cigarette. She was more than anything else confused. Had she deluded herself into thinking that Georgie really liked her? No, she knew that she had not. She had not been the pursuer between them. It was quite the opposite. She had, in fact, been wary of going out with him from the get-go, sensing that he was much too smooth and good looking to be reliable. She had been shy and uncertain the first time he approached her, while he had been amused and intrigued by her reticence. He had been relentless, calling her many times. He even sent her flowers. When she finally agreed to go out with him, he had gallantly picked her up at her door. Aside from his devastatingly good looks, how could she possibly have known?

  It was not until their third date that she finally yielded to Georgie’s charm and good looks, melting into his arms and his bed. She was normally not at her peak performance when it was the first time with a new partner, but with Georgie everything came off seamlessly. Their bodies melded together in perfect harmony. She h
ad even managed to reach an orgasm, which usually took her months into a relationship to achieve. She left Georgie that following morning believing they had begun something truly magical. But Georgie never called her again.

  Daphne reflected that she probably should not have waited so long to sleep with him after all. With men like Georgie, it was the women who got more attached with each encounter. If she had gone home with him that first night, it would have ended the same, it’s true, but at least she wouldn’t have felt so much hurt over it.

  She reached for another cigarette, but the pack was empty. She stared at it in surprise. Surely she had not smoked the entire pack already? She circled the street in search of a convenience store. She would never make it through the night without cigarettes.

  By the time Thursday rolled around, Daphne was up to three packs a day. She puffed furiously on a cigarette as she squinted to read the road signs up ahead. She looked around nervously. Her quest had brought her to a seedier part of town, but what was more disturbing was the eerie silence all around. One would have expected to find some hoodlums loitering noisily about or perhaps to hear a few police sirens. The area appeared to be deserted. Up ahead she spotted the building she was looking for. It was rundown and decrepit like the rest of the neighborhood. She saw lights shining from within, and this reassured her. In truth, the creepy surroundings cheered her somewhat. They matched her idea of where a hypnotist might conduct business. Best of all, her depression had been replaced with curiosity. The session would be a diversion that might at least prove entertaining.