by Blair Aaron
By contrast, Ava longed for something more romantic, something a little more out of reach and therefore more perfect. She wanted a guy whose personality was so masculine that he seemed almost like a different species, altogether unrelatable. It wasn't enough that he liked hunting and fishing, but that he hungered for mystery, being alone, independent, able to survive by the fruits of his own strength. He'd never talk unless you pried him, and even then, he'd only be interested in one or two-word answers. Separated, her man was, not just from society and people, but also from himself. He held not an ounce of self-consciousness or embarrassment. He was primal, pure action and reaction to the living world. Even his body radiated vitality and lust for life--tall as a statue and broad as oak. For Ava, knowing him would give real life to her dream, a place more real than anyone or anything she had experienced thus far in her two decades of life.
Ava stepped out of the tavern just as Mitch finally closed the place for the night. Her footsteps were crispy as she walked along the pathway to her little cottage in the woods. She lived by herself, as her mother thought it necessary for Ava to "get out on her own," away from her parents. This was really code for an insistence on her parent's part to get Ava married as soon as possible. Ava knew she could not make it on her own for any length of time past the age of 25. So the clock was ticking.
Her dwelling was quiet, dark, and cold. She put a log on the fire and struck a match. The sound struck against the silence. There was something quite unsettling about that night, because the moon shone down in the forest harder and whiter than any candle she could use to see her way through the darkness. Normally around 2 AM, the coyotes would emerge from the forest, howling their calls through the night. Most nights there was even a storm, or at least the quiet hiss of wind invading her doorsill.
But tonight there was nothing. Just dead silence.
She gave milk to her cat, locked the door, and started for the one window of her cottage. She stared outside for a brief moment, where the moonlight evaporated into the darkness of the forest. Something called to her, and she sensed that someone or something was watching her. The door to her cottage opened, and Ava turned around frightened. She stepped onto the snowy porch of her place and looked out into the distance.
"Hello!"
There was nothing.
"I have a huge dog that sleeps with me in bed at night, so don't you think of trying anything!" she said.
Silence.
And then the wind came alive, and electrified her skin through her clothes. Ice.
Ava walked back into her cottage and sealed the door with the biggest, thickest log she could find. She curled up into her bed and pulled the covers over her eyes.
CHAPTER II
Ava was fighting with Mitch at the beginning of her shift.
"Ava! When are you going to get married?"
"I'm so tired of hearing that sir. Please leave me alone," she said.
"I'm only asking because I know someone who would be right up your alley."
"Who's that?"
"Me course," he said.
Ava snapped her head away and bit her lip. Death. Death before marrying Mitch. Tall and angular, with an aquiline nose, and beady eyes, he reminded the patrons of a starved buzzard. Although Ava recognized his inner goodness, she herself couldn't help but agree with the other patrons and workers who didn't see into his soul as deeply. Thankfully Mitch had at least one soul who saw past his ghastly exterior, and Ava would make a conscientious effort to continue that acknowledgement.
Mitch motioned toward the door as it swung open.
"Or him," he said.
At first Ava couldn't see him. The door opened, she thought, by itself and a ghost made the sounds of footsteps. But then looked down and saw the skinny, short man enter the tavern. His clothes seemed like a wet rug he carried on his back, heavy and burdensome. His eyes were downcast, as if he were afraid of offending someone by looking at them. His hands, feet, and torso were almost doll-like. For a moment Ava thought a living mannequin had entered her tavern.
Without waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence, the man sauntered over to the bar and waited for Mitch to offer him some drink.
"What can I get for ya, sir?" Mitch asked.
"Ale," the man spoke under his breath.
"What's the cause for war buddy?"
The man stopped before taking a drink. "What do you mean?"
Mitch laughed. "What brings you to town? Ava and I know everyone around here better than we know our own asses, and we've never seen you yet."
The man looked over at Ava. The tavern was empty except for the two men and her.
Mitch held out his hand. "Name's Mitch."
The man paused. "Bastian."
"Nice to meet you Bastian!"
Bastian looked over at Ava quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice. Mitch caught him though and motioned Ava over.
At this moment, Ava felt an invisible rope wrap itself around her waist and tug her gently but firmly in Bastian's direction. She walked in his direction, and as she approached him and as his body and features came into view, Ava's initial nervous stirrings subsided. In fact, they transformed instantaneously to something much worse--an outright revulsion.
Bastian was not just small; he was near nonexistent, ghost-like, and ghastly. His skin was aged and marked by hardship and labor. The whites of his eyes were sullied with a yellow tint. His hair was matted with dirt and mud. His smell was that sweet, faint smell you encounter after discovering spoiled fruit in a cabinet of your home.
"Ava, this is Bastian. Our first guest of the day. Tell him how things are done around here."
Ava laughed. "Well, let's see. I start off the day cleaning the tables, changing out candles, mopping the floor one last time before we open..."
Ava stopped. "Have I...met you before?"
Bastian addressed Ava as he stared at the window behind her, unwilling to make eye contact directly with her. "Maybe in a different life."
Even though there was a sadness to his demeanor, Bastian radiated a deep kindness and compassion, marked perhaps by a perception that comes from his own suffering in life. For an instance, Ava could see herself in him, in the way his inner life collided with his outer appearance, the way he refrained from human contact unless given permission, but mostly the way he had a fundamental awareness of other people's feelings. Despite this, Ava saw at the same time a weakness, a disgusting absence of spirit and fight required to make your way in the world. Suddenly that spoiled fruit smell seemed unbearable. She gagged a little in her mouth and turned the other way.
CHAPTER III
The day lasted for years. Bastian remained well through the night in the far, lone stool he'd originally chosen upon first arrival. Add to this the fact that Ava had a fly buzz in her ear for the past few hours, the place had become ever increasingly crowded by the hour, and several day laborers--with the scent of an outhouse and obsession of a pit-bull--had spent the last 20 minutes essentially indicating they'd like to rape her. Throughout her shift, Ava had struggled with juggling all these issues with that same sneaking feeling that she was being watched. Sure enough, every time she looked up she noticed Bastian had grown more confident in his willingness of observe her from a distance. As disturbed as she was by the day laborers, Bastian's voyeurism just made her angry and annoyed.
Buzz. The fly swarmed in figure eights around her head. She swatted.
"Hey hammies, why don't you come over here and let me squeeze ya!" The day laborer's gut hung over his pants and pushed its way out of his shirt. His scraggly beard was a dull gray.
"I swear I'm not married," he said.
All his friends bellowed and the entire tavern shook with the sound. Ava's face flushed hot with revenge--her back hurt, she couldn't feel her feet, and the inner side of her thighs rubbed against each other to make a chafing point. If only I could slap those men and knock them on their ass, she thought.
"Baby why don't you take them skivvies off. I b
et they haven't been washed in two weeks!"
Her heart beat harder and faster. The din of the tavern grew deafening. And yet she could still hear the men running their jokes.
"Take it off. Come on, Clyde, chant with us." The rest of the men joined in.
"Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" they sang.
The fly buzz intensified.
"Take..."
Ava looked over as Bastian stared her down.
"It..."
Having had enough, Ava reared around prepared to take on all three men by herself.
"Off!!!"
The door to the tavern opened. A man stepped in.
The sound of the heathens taken over the place died down as if the jack from headphones had been pulled. Buried in a forest of people, Ava was blind to the movement of the mysterious man who had quieted an entire building of people. She could see just dirty boots stop at the entrance and then make their way over to her direction.
"Excuse me," she said as she struggled past each frozen, still person.
"I said excuse me!"
The people around her stood still in an almost trance-like state. Ava didn't quite mistake this as anything supernatural per se; it was just over half of the people in the building had been mesmerized psychologically by the man entering the building. And make no mistake. He was mesmerizing.
Dressed in lumberjack's clothes--dirty working boots, a torn plaid shirt, and holes exposing the blonde hairs on his legs--he was nevertheless a veritable Adonis. The man displayed a fortified face, a smooth smile, thick blonde hair, smooth white skin with a hint of yellow tan, and a large, beaked nose. His eyes were blue beyond recognition, emitting their own light from within his spirit, as if he were possessed. Beneath those clothes, he was clean, pristine, and perfect. Physically he possessed broad, thick shoulders, with slabs of muscle laid along the contour of his back. The gods, placed with perfect symmetry across his sternum, also sculpted his chest and it merged seamlessly into his collarbone and neck. His ass was square and folded perfectly over his rounded thighs, which themselves ran long down to his knees. His most perfect physical attribute were his hands, with fingers round and strong, a smooth backside and rugged knuckles. His physical beauty was proportionate to the dirtiness of his clothes, which were nothing more than a surface image that covered his brick-built body beneath. The body was so perfect it seemed to slough off all dirt like two magnets with repulsive charges.
He held out his hand for Ava.
"Hi. My name is Julian."
Ava gulped.
"Do you want to get a drink with me?" he asked her.
"Um...I was just wondering when my shift was over."
He smiled, as his teeth were white and spaced along his maw with great symmetry. "Are these men bothering you?"
Ava looked over in the direction of the day laborers who were equally bewildered by the man's presence.
"I...I'd just like to get done with this night. I'm tired."
"OK, let me go talk to them."
Julian stepped into the crowd who was still staring at him but soon continued their conversations. The silence dissolved and the room became warm again.
Ava watched Julian put his hand on the ringleader's shoulder and whisper something in his ear. The day laborer's face changed from a readiness for confrontation to a look of comprehension with a subtle fix of fear. He nodded his head and then gave Ava a quick glance before retreating to the back of the tavern.
Julian looked in her direction and pointed to outside.
Both of them stepped out into the snow-covered street. The sound of partying and booze and merry destruction emanated from the tavern.
"Sorry it's so cold out. I just figured we could talk better out here."
"No it's fine."
Julian stood almost an entire head above her, as he looked down into her face his cobalt eyes seemed unwilling to darken themselves in the night, as the rest of him did.
"So tell me, do you live alone?"
"You're not going to murder me are you?" Ava laughed.
"Yes, actually. That's exactly my plan."
Ava's heart skipped a beat.
"But before that, I'm going to fuck you senseless."
The danger--mixed with raw animal passion--was something Ava had never experienced before. She didn't need to consent to him, because he already knew her answer. He started in the direction of her apartment and she followed.
As they disappeared into the night, Bastian threw open the door to the tavern, and his face communicated everything he was feeling should there have been someone there to witness it. He could muster only so much strength from within his weakened, frail body to take a stand for the woman he loved and to warn her against the impending events.
CHAPTER IV
There must have been a rift in the universe, because Ava suddenly found herself leaning against the sink of her darkened apartment. Julian was standing silhouetted in the darkness as he began unbuttoning his shirt. As he opened his shirt, the moonlight revealed his smooth, hairless torso and Adonis belt. There was a burning pang, which started in Ava's chest and then ran down to her nether regions. Her knees wobbled.
When Julian looked up to her she saw now that his blue eyes were quite literally glowing in the dark, casting a faint blue tint across the floor of the cottage. The rest happened in what seemed like episodes of unconsciousness. First she was staring into Julian's eyes, then there was blackness. And after that she was lying on the bed, stripped down to her underwear--which, it must be said, was indeed clean--looking at Julian take his pants off. He stepped out of his clothes all at once, revealing his nine-inch member dangling in the dark like an uncooked sausage.
He crawled onto the bed and pressed his body against hers. She wrapped her legs around him, using her thighs to feel the smoothness of his waist. She then rubbed her hands over his torso and down to his penis, which was now engorged. Grabbing his manhood in her hand, she felt its sponginess and softness, like a mix between play-doh and a stuffed animal.
Julian placed his hand on her crotch, still covered by her undergarments.
"How will you remember me?" he asked.
"How could I forget you?"
"I need to leave my mark on you. Where?"
"Will it hurt?"
Julian was thinking about it. "I know."
He spread her legs and placed his lips on her inner thigh. She felt the coldness of his breath at first but his tongue was literally frozen. The freezing sensation grew more intense until she passed out.
Blackness. Darkness. A small point of light appeared in Ava's field of vision and grew larger and larger. She opens her eyes. She was frozen stiff, unable to move, under Julian's power.
Julian had taken her bra off and was kissing her nipples. He traced his tongue around her areola and drew letters across her chest. From her vantage point, all she could see was Julian's tousled hair. His tongue dove down her stomach to her still covered vagina. Using his sharp canine teeth, he grabbed the edge of her panties and slipped them off. She was completely naked now, in bed with the man of her dreams.
Julian walked on his knees up the bed and placed his penis in Ava's mouth, thrusting gently back and forth. She put her hands on his waist and felt his ass cheeks clenching in rhythmic motions. Out then in. Out then in.
She kissed the area below his naval and put her tongue to his ever so tanned skin. He tasted smooth and sweet, like unprocessed cream. She ran her hand along his thighs and wondered how something so hard could be so soft.
Julian opened her legs by grabbing the middle of both her thighs. He lined up his penis to her vagina and entered.
She fainted with a shudder.
This time when she came to, it wasn't gradual but sudden, in short intervals before the intensity of the sex caused her to lapse back into darkness. In retrospect, the most she could recall from her experience was a succession of images and sounds.
Julian spread her legs open as much as far as possible, as he p
lowed into her body. Waves of pleasure undulated across Ava's body.
She faded off.
Julian put his head between Ava's legs. She tried fighting against his control but failed miserably. Such failure never felt so good.
She faded off.
Julian laid her on her back and entered her from behind. The paradoxically cold-hot chest touched her back. He made her his toy, something malleable and corrupt. She couldn't resist.
She faded off.
CHAPTER V
There were stories adults told children when Ava was little about male witches who would abduct people for a night, have their way with them, and then drop them back into their real life as if nothing had happened. If Ava herself hadn't experienced something firsthand, she might never have the ability to vouch for the truthfulness of the story. Some dark prince must have abducted that first storyteller long ago, who then told her parents and peers and whom they then dismissed as either a crazy person, a liar, or attention seeker. Either way, that first soothsayer's experiences weren't all for naught, as they benefited Ava in preparing her for her first encounter with a male witch.