"Healthy sales?"
"Healthy girls!" he crowed. "Sales, too--sold out, actually--but the girls! I couldn't keep them off me! I ended up staying over for three days, just to give them all a turn."
"Name two."
Antony started and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Beg pardon?"
"I said, name two. Give me the names of two of those girls."
Antony turned back toward the road and shrugged. "I don't remember their names. Why should I? They don't matter. No woman matters to me. I don't fall in love, and I travel alone."
"So I'm not really here, is what you're saying."
"Not for long, anyway. And don't flatter yourself. I won't remember your name either." She scowled at his back. "Where d'you think this Starman is again?" he continued.
"Starret. I'm fairly sure he's near the western border and I know he's with the Fifth Regiment. The war's not been over long."
"And you're sure he's alive?"
"I would know it if he were dead!" she sniffed.
"Hm. I didn't realize you could have such a deeply spiritual tie when he hasn't come for you or written for how many years now? That's love for you."
"Oh what do you know?" said Jennia. "You're so coarse you can't even remember a girl's name." She fell into a sulk, chewing on her half of the tough cheese rind. When they got nearer the border she'd find Starret, and not a minute too soon.
When they pulled into Rabny Ford, the townfolk almost seemed to be waiting for them. Just as Antony had said, a small army of girls and women flocked around the wagon, flirting and generally treating him like a conquering hero. Some of them pointed at Jennia and nudged one another, but most of them pointedly ignored her.
Two muscular local men helped Antony set up a large tent that could hold about fifty people. Jennia had no idea where Antony had it stowed; she assumed it was a mage trick. She stood and watched them wrestle with canvas and tent poles, munching an early apple. "Hey," said a male voice close by her shoulder. Jennia turned to face three cheerful young men, all grinning. "You his model this year?"
A chunk of apple caught in her throat. "Er...no," she rasped.
The grins widened. The middle one said, "The last one was pretty enough, but you're--" He growled, licked his lips and laughed. "I'm getting in line early."
Jennia turned redder than the apple. "I said, I wasn't his model!"
"And alls I said is I'm getting in line early!" the young man replied.
Jennia threw the apple core where Dolf could reach it and stalked back to the wagon. "Hey! No one's gonna bother you! We're just looking forward to it, s'all!" one of them called after her. She slammed the door shut.
Two hours later, Antony found her sitting cross-legged on the wagon's bed. "I'm not doing it," she said.
Antony had visions of leaving Rabny Ford with a wagonload of charms and no money; he'd already been asked several times about the buxom redhead he had in tow. "But that was the deal! I get you to what's-his-name, you model for me!"
"I'm not doing it!"
"Then you get left here," Antony scowled.
"If you leave me here, you leave me here, but you promised me no one would know who I am. They've already seen me, haven't they? They already know who I am! I can't go through with it, and you can't make me!"
None of his other models had ever cared. They'd worn the mask during the demonstration, but it was all the same to them whether anyone knew who they were or not. Nonplussed, he said, "Why does it matter to you?"
"Wouldn't it matter to you?"
"No, I demonstrate the toys myself at every stop."
Jennia flashed a startled look at him. "They work for men?"
"Oh yes," he grinned. She flushed and lowered her eyes; Antony imagined they lingered for a moment on his groin, and he felt a sudden tug. He studied her face for telltale signs of interest, and then peered at her more closely. "You're crying. Jennia, why are you crying?"
He took two steps closer, but she held out a hand. "Give me a moment to collect myself and I'll get my cloak and go."
Antony's heart sank, but that's what he wanted, wasn't it--for her to model or leave? He tried to conjure Magda's sneering face and failed. "Listen, I'm sorry. I can't make you do the demonstration, and you don't have to go. I broke my end of the deal."
"You did?" sniffed Jennia.
He nodded. "They saw you. I promised they wouldn't know who you were, and now they do. So no modeling at Rabny Ford. You can start at the next town. All right?"
"You promise this isn't a trick?"
"If it were a trick, I'd promise anyway, wouldn't I?" he smiled. "But will you help me? Collect the money for the charms. Next town, you can stay in the wagon until show time or--or wear the mask and hair veil in the open. Deal?"
She pretended to consider before she nodded. "Deal."
Night fell. The tent filled up, leaving a group of disappointed men and women twice as large as the group already inside the tent. "The farmers and shepherds come from miles around into town. That's why we stay two nights," Antony told Jennia. "The ones who don't get in, show up early the next night or next year if they're unlucky twice--I always have people desperate because they missed out."
She sat inside the tent to one side behind a table borrowed from the nearby tavern, charms stacked in neat pyramids in front of her: piles of yellow money charm bags; piles of pink love charm bags; and baskets overflowing with opalescent sex charms. "Do these actually work?" she muttered to Antony.
"You know they do."
"I meant the others," she blushed.
"The money charms--well, they're called money charms, but they're really about changing one's luck. Same with the love charms. You still have to work, and work hard depending on what you're trying to do. But if you do the work, you'll get what you want--even though it's not always what you think you want."
"I wonder that anyone would be without their heart's desire, then," said Jennia.
"You'd be surprised how few people will do the work. Speaking of. Show time." Antony strode to the front of the crowd and clapped for attention. "Good people of Rabny Ford, how happy I am to see you again! And how are all your charms working?"
Laughter and clapping rose from the crowd. "Don't need my love charm no more, I got my gal," yelled a man.
"Hubert!" said the woman beside him. "Did you bespell me?"
"That's not how it works, ma'am!" said Antony. He launched into an explanation of how love and money charms worked, many of his former customers murmuring agreement: if you didn't do the work, the charm wouldn't work, either. All it did was pave the way. "But if you do your part, the charm does its part, am I right?" The murmurs turned to open agreement, and the skeptical in the crowd began to soften.
"Money charm didn't work for me," a woman toward the front grumbled loudly.
"Money don't stick to clean hands, Minnie," someone else called, and the people laughed.
Antony finished up his sales spiel. "At the end of my demonstration, this lovely young lady will be happy to fulfill your orders, and remember, we accept trade in certain circumstances."
"When's the girl gonna demonstrate?" yelled a voice Jennia recognized as one of the young men from that afternoon.
"She's not," said Antony. A rumble of disappointment rolled through the assembly, especially the male half. "Now, now, you'll see my toys in action, just not on a woman. Unless one of the charming ladies here wishes to volunteer? No? Not even a breast?"
A few hands shot up, and soon three giggling young women stood before the crowd, their left breasts exposed. "One way to remind the mage what I've got," a blond girl whispered to her neighbor. Jennia bristled inwardly.
"Or to make my Jules jealous," the second girl whispered back.
Antony handed each of them a charm and showed them how to use it. Within moments, all three were gasping as the toys suckled at their breasts, the charms molded against their skin pulsating in a slow, sensual rhythm. "Now, ladies, imagine that charm...elsewhe
re," Antony purred to the audience; a feminine muttering broke out among the crowd.
He took the charms back from the flushed, somewhat reluctant girls and ushered them back to their seats; to Jennia's deep annoyance, Antony kissed the hand of the blond and gave her a smoldering look. One of the young men who'd accosted Jennia was ruddy-faced and darting furious glances at the girl who'd said she hoped to make her boyfriend jealous. That must be Jules, Jennia noted to herself. She knew what he felt like.
"Now, you gentlemen who haven't seen one of these demonstrations must be wondering what one of my charms can do for you," said Antony. "To begin with, if you have a problem with...let's call it reluctance, one of these charms will help. Guaranteed. And if you find yourself in need of amusement, this toy will always be there to amuse you. Observe."
To Jennia's astonishment, Antony opened his buckskin breeches and pulled out his half-hard cock. He meant it, he really did demonstrate the charms himself! He stroked himself once, twice; his cock lengthened to a more than respectable size and hardness. Antony took a charm from his waistcoat pocket, flourished it like a juggler, and placed it against himself.
The charm encased him in an opalescent sheath. "At first, it feels warm, like a hand caressing you," said Antony. Did he bespell his voice? Its timbre always managed to vibrate at the base of Jennia's belly. "And then, once it knows what you want and how you want it, it begins." He gestured downwards. The toy was working him now, rippling up and down. "It feels like the most luscious woman or the softest mouth, depending on what you want--and it always knows."
Sweat was beading on Antony's dark brow. Was he going to let the toy take him to his climax? Someone hissed a breath through his teeth, but otherwise the tent was silent as Antony kept going through his sales pitch, his breathing and speech becoming more ragged as the charm sucked at him; fat, almost violent waves coursed up and down his shaft.
Through it all, though he gave the appearance of engaging the crowd, Jennia swore his eyes kept returning to hers. He finally stopped talking as he drew close. Their gazes locked; his hips began to pump uncontrollably, and every thrust felt as if it were aimed at her. She could almost feel each one. Jennia's breasts ached, and her sex was drenched. Why couldn't she have him? She imagined his hard, thick cock in her hand, her mouth, her cunt. Nothing else existed but this moment between them. His intense expression turned pleading; as he roared out his orgasm she knew he came for her, and she nearly came with him.
Cheers and applause brought Jennia back to the tent; she realized she was staring at Antony, slack-jawed. He smirked at her and broadly winked at the blond who'd flirted with him. The smirk broke the spell: she'd imagined it all, the intimate connection between them had never been. Antony tossed the charm up into the air, caught it in his waistcoat pocket and fastened up his buckskins.
Buyers descended on Jennia's table so fast she hadn't a moment to think until the charms were all gone. At some point Antony had joined her, and now that everything was sold, he walked her back to the wagon. When he handed up the money pouch, it was so heavy she had to take it in both hands. "Where are you going?" she said.
"Where do you think?" he snickered. "You can come along too if you'd like. I saw a few young bucks who'd show you the town, or at least a cozy dark corner of it. Unless you're afraid you'll break your betrothal to Starret?"
"How kind, you got his name right. By all means, mighty enchanter of sex toys, go inhabit a dark corner of your own. You belong in them." She slammed the door shut, latched it and folded down the bed. The three charms rolled out; she made to kick at them but picked them up and stared into their glowing, winking surfaces. "Not tonight," she said and put them in her apron pocket. She hung the apron and the rest of her clothes on a peg, climbed into bed and tried to sleep.
Jennia's imagination kept returning to Antony's eyes as he came, and a cascade of shivers rose from between her legs until she shook. She couldn't sleep. She thought about fetching the toys, but all they would do is remind her of him. She finally stroked herself, doing her best to think of Starret, but in the end she could not stop fantasizing that the mage's strong, elegant fingers were making her come instead of her own.
Antony woke up early the next morning in a hayrick, his shirt off, his breeches unfastened and the blond girl--her name was Tassie--beside him. He'd drunk a lot the night before; he found it the only way to keep his attention on the blond. Sober, he kept thinking of Jennia. His head pounded. He untangled himself from Tassie, rearranged his clothing and walked off to the inn to see about breakfast. Alone among hangover sufferers he knew, Antony felt better with food on his stomach.
Once at the inn, he realized he'd given all their money to Jennia the night before; he wouldn't get much breakfast without it. Off he went to the wagon, picking hay out of his hair as he went and wincing in the sunlight.
The door was latched from the inside. Knocking did nothing. Nor did shouting at the windows, and the sound of his own voice magnified his headache. "Is she in there?" Antony asked Dolf. The big horse gave the equine equivalent of a shrug and went back to his hay. "Dammit, I don't want to waste magic on the door latch!" He pounded on the door. "Hey you! Jennia! Wake up!"
"What do you want?" said a muffled voice.
"In!"
"What for?"
"I need some money for breakfast. Now that you're awake--"
"Who said I was awake?"
"Just get dressed. Bring some of last night's take, and let's get a decent breakfast. My head is splitting."
The latch slid back, and Jennia stuck her tousled head out. Her russet hair was all undone and fell over her bare shoulder; she wore nothing but a sheet clutched round her. It was all he could do not to tear the door open and fall on her, even as hungover as he was. "Do they not serve breakfast in Rabny Ford's cozy dark corners?" she said.
Antony detected a satisfying note of jealousy in her tone. "None I care to eat," he answered. "I don't think Tassie cooks, anyway. See? I remembered her name. Come on. Get dressed."
Fresh eggs, fresher river trout, crusty rolls, butter, plums and small beer made up the inn's breakfast board. Halfway through, Antony began to feel a great deal better, and his headache subsided. Jennia kept a sulky silence, but Antony could easily pretend not to notice; villagers continually stopped by their table to share success stories--brags, really--as to how well Antony's various charms had worked. One old man silently took Antony's hand in a fervent grip and pumped it up and down while tears welled in his eyes. "That's all right," murmured Antony, patting the old man's shoulder.
As the man walked away, Jennia said, "What was that about?"
"He married a girl half his age a year ago--he couldn't keep up. I sold him a sex charm last time I was through. Apparently it did the trick."
Jennia's face changed as she watched the old man leave the inn. "I hadn't thought about those charms actually helping people."
"Seemed to help relieve your tension the other day," he snorted. Antony's headache returned as Jennia's face slammed shut; his careless words had hurt her. He became angry with himself, but his spiteful headache pointed his anger outward: "Speaking of. We're not going to have any of this coyness in the next town, are we?"
"Coyness?"
"No more of this 'oooh, they'll know who I am!' stuff. Because I'm beginning to think you're taking advantage of me."
"You think so, eh? You think so!" Jennia stood up and threw her napkin on the table, narrowly missing the butter crock. "All right then, tonight."
"What about tonight?"
"I'll do it tonight. I'll demonstrate the charms with you tonight."
Antony goggled; this was not what he intended. "I thought you didn't want anyone knowing who you are."
"Oh, what does it matter?" she snapped. "I'll never see these people again."
"But you were so worried about it! Jennia, I meant it, you don't have to do it until the next town. You can stay hidden--"
"Oh yes, staying cooped up in a stifling wagon
with all the doors and windows shut till nightfall, that's the height of luxury! Sign me up for that! No, I'll do it, and then afterwards maybe I'll find myself a cozy, dark corner!"
Taken aback, Antony watched her stalk out of the inn. He wanted to push her away--needed to--but now that he'd succeeded he hated himself for it.
That night, Jennia undressed in the wagon. She tied a half-mask round her head and tucked her long, russet braid into a snood that fully covered her hair; its long green ribbons framed her face. Over her nakedness she wrapped her dearly won cloak. She clambered down from the wagon. Unaccustomed to freedom, her breasts bounced as she walked and her hard nipples brushed against the cloak's silk and wool. It was the sort of night she would normally think of as romantic; the air was warm and kind, night-blooming flowers from the cottage gardens near the tent generously shared their perfume, and the star-littered sky was ablaze. Tonight it was all conspiratorial, as if the world had decided to seduce her into something dangerous--perhaps fatal.
Jennia waited on the far side of the tent for Antony to call for her; in her sweaty hand she held the three charms. She watched him through an opening as he went through his spiel: the love and money charms worked but only if you did your part, testimonials from satisfied customers in the audience, la la la. She didn't get many chances to look at him without him seeing her, and she took her opportunity; she let her eyes run across his long, lean body and his eloquent hands that always said more than his words. His dark eyes sparkled in the bright lantern light, and his white teeth flashed in a smile that bordered on a snarl. Last night he'd appeared relaxed, in his element; tonight he vibrated like a strained rope about to snap.
Antony pulled his own pearly sex charm from his waistcoat pocket, flourishing it before the crowd before he rolled it juggler-style over the top of his hand, up one arm, over his shoulders and down into his opposite hand. He undid his buckskins and she waited for him to call for her. But he didn't. He set the charm against himself and let it begin its magic.
The Mage's Toy (Aria Afton Presents) Page 3