How Wicked-er Can She Go?

by J. Morgan

  "Gosh, and I thought all this stuff was just mumbo jumbo."

  "Witches had all this shit down long before Estée Lauder even thought about making a woman smell like an alcoholic flower bed.” Well, we did. We just didn't give the real stuff out to the rubes. “Let Nikki fix you up."

  I let the sheet slip down my body before prancing my naked ass to the bedroom door. Pausing briefly to let him get another eyeful I grabbed a dressing gown from a chair. I could hear his jaw drop. I have a great butt, even if I do say so myself. I saw no reason why he shouldn't suffer for his earlier disregard of my feelings.

  Leaving him to worship me from afar, I went in search of my mythical potion. There was one, but just not in my house. But I did have an old bottle of José, some mango-passion fruit Kool-Aide, and a packet of sugar substitute for a nasty aftertaste; that should do the trick. A dash of dry ice I kept on hand would complete the illusion of a potion.

  I heard him shuffling around in the bedroom, as I finished brewing up the ‘potion'. Good, the spell must have worn off in time to let me finish. I could have let it fade out, but that wouldn't exactly have been wicked now, would it? I dumped the smoking concoction into a really cool-looking terracotta mug I'd picked up at a flea market over at Arcadia a few years back. I doubted serving it in a Bugs Bunny jelly glass would've instilled unquestioning confidence in my witchly skills.

  "Is that it?” I turned around to see him pulling on his shirt as he came through the door. Eager little thing, wasn't he?

  "Sure is.” I beamed behind the lie. I hate to admit this, but a smidgen of guilt pecked at the back of my brain. The sex had been great and all, but not enough to make me feel sorry for lying to the guy. I didn't think I'd developed a conscience either. So what was the deal? I chalked it up to gas from the Taco Bell I'd had for lunch. “Bring your cute buns over to the table, and I'll give you the rundown on the dosage."

  Within seconds we were huddled over my cluttered dining room set. Along with the mug, I'd pulled out an ancient-looking, leather-bound book I'd found at the same flea market in Arcadia. It was nothing more than a French-to-Latin dictionary, but, for my purposes, it looked the part of a grimoire. I opened it to a titillating translation of chicken, and began mumbling.

  My ‘spell’ lasted for all of three seconds. That was the amount of time it took for my throat to start hurting from my pseudo-Latin. With a flourish, I passed my hand over the mug, letting my palmed dry ice drop into the mixture. It flared to life, in a haze of smoke drawing just the gasp from Gregory I'd been looking for.

  Finished, I pushed the cup in front of him. “Drink up!"

  He fingered the rim before sliding it back to me. “Uh, you first."

  "I'm not looking for true love, sweetie, but thanks for thinking of me.” I pushed the glass back toward him. “Won't kill you, I promise."

  He looked doubtful, but lifted it to his lips anyway. It made me wonder if love was so hard to find out there in the real world that people were willing to trust a total stranger to help them find it. Sure, I'd seen the ads for everything from love hotlines to online dating, but seeing it firsthand put a new spin on the situation for me. I hoped I never found myself in his shoes. About as close to love as I planned to get was a bag of popcorn and Bridget Jones's Diary on my DVD player.

  My inner musings made me miss his chug-a-lug, but I did catch his snarl when the aftertaste hit him in the taste buds. I stifled a snicker behind the musky book, as I closed it before setting the tome beside him.

  "What the hell was in that crap?” he sputtered, wiping his tongue on his sleeve.

  "Before I answer that.” I arched my eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?"

  "Uh, no,” he said wisely.

  "Thought not.” This time I couldn't hide the snicker.

  "You know, I didn't come here to amuse you.” He rose from the chair and stomped toward the front door, which had begun leaking a large amount of Neverland into my living room. Damn Gabaroon!

  I'd better stop him. I still needed to finish screwing with his mind. Stop looking at me like that. You needed to shift that dirty look on Melina, not me. If it hadn't been for her, I would have gladly sat on my butt, and continued to be a drain on my parents’ finances. She was the one who forced me to be wicked.

  "Gregory, stop! I need to tell you the rest of it.” I jumped up and followed him.

  He paused. I could see the indecision play across his face. Finally, insecurity won over, like I knew it would. “So there's more?"

  "Of course there is. The potion is only half the equation.” I had him. You speak geek, and it gets them every time. “If you'll sit back down, I'll fill you in on the rest."

  He joined me on the couch. I could still smell sex all over him, and it did crazy things to my head. I found it incredibly hard to concentrate on the lies I had rolling around in my head to tell him. Don't you hate it when that happens? I focused my synapses back to the non-sex portion of the conversation.

  "The potion is the reactant. It is, even now, working its way through your system, activating all that manliness you've been keeping locked away. By this time tomorrow, it should have fully revitalized your testosterone to epic proportions. Believe you me, women will be throwing themselves at you in the morning.” Oops, maybe I overdid it there a bit.

  "But I don't want women throwing themselves at me.” Yep I did.

  "Of course you don't. That's why you have to watch what you're doing in the morning. No sudden studly moves on the way to the Starbucks counter, if you know what I mean."

  "How will I know when my true love is there?” He waved his hands in a circle around him.

  "Silly man. She'll know you. The first woman to come up to you tomorrow will be your true love.” And I said it with a straight face. It tells of the true wickedness lurking in the depths of my cold ruthless heart.

  "That's it?” he seemed incredulous at the simplicity of it, and rightly so. It was bullshit, and he had every right to think so.

  "Hey, you came for magic, and that, my friend, is magic. Don't look for complicated explanations or longwinded dissertations on the meanings of life. Just take it at face value, and kiss your incredible good fortune on the lips, cuz, tiger, you just hit the jackpot."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 7

  I woke the next morning to the worst case of morning-after regret of my entire life. To be perfectly honest with you, it was the first case of morning-after regret of my life. Normally, regrets are not something I find myself dwelling on. Strange how sex gives you thought-provoking revelations, when all you wanted was a great lay, with no lasting relationships to tie you down.

  By eleven o'clock I'd decided to blame the entire episode on the half gallon of double-fudge mocha sundae I'd topped my night off with after Gregory had left. I strongly advise you to never to eat an entire tub of artificially-flavored ice cream, and then take a sleeping pill right after you do it. The diarrheic warning on the side of the tub ain't kidding. Less said the better.

  I spent the rest of the morning cleaning house. Since I wasn't expecting Melina's bully boy back for a few days, the filth had to go. I would deal with the Neverland seepage later, after I worked up the courage to wash out my coffee pot. The hum of the washing machine distracted me from what really bugged me, namely Gregory.

  Okay, I still felt bad for the guy. I'd boinked his brains out, and sent him on a wild goose chase to find his mythical true love. I was so going to Hell for this one, but if it worked, I wouldn't be forced to become roomies with Mom, which was a good thing. Hell, I could deal with. Mom was a different matter.

  There I went thinking about myself again. Mom would be proud. I was finally taking my witchiness seriously. That isn't to say my mind wasn't wandering toward him, because it was.

  Had he made a total fool of himself yet? I could see him now, looking for Ms. Right behind every bush and trash can between here and the east coast. Yeah, it made me feel shitty all over. I shouldn't be, but I a
m. Sex never had this affect on me before. Maybe I need to swear off the pure stuff, if it threw my conscience into a downward spiral.

  I rolled onto my side. My hip dug a groove in the couch as I fumbled on the floor for the cable remote. A little mindless drivel would cure me of whatever outbreak of niceness decided to haunt me.

  The first one hundred and fifty channels yielded nothing but infomercials and horrible excuses for Seventies sitcoms. How was I supposed to forget my troubles if the TV wouldn't cooperate? I could try my hand at house-cleaning again, but I'd used up all my happy home-making skills twenty minutes ago, and didn't feel up for a second attempt.

  So I went back to flipping. Three straight channels of The Dukes of Hazard, and I was tempted to pick up my Swiffer anyway. I swore to myself one more channel and then it was back to cleaning.

  "Are you going to lie there all day on your dead ass, or do something productive?” the TV squawked at me in my mother's high-pitched voice.

  I blinked twice. Normally, the voices in my head sounded nothing like my mother. The TV never sounded like her, so I must have been losing my mind. I reached for the Windex, which conveniently sat beside the couch. I'd dropped the spray bottle there earlier in my haste to get away from cleaning. Now I needed the damn thing to spritz the screen, just in case the image of my mother flashing across the shot of the General Lee jumping a creek bed turned out to be a mirage. I didn't think it I'd get so lucky, but you never knew.

  "Spray me with that, and I'll take away your trust fund quicker than you can say Bob's your uncle,” the TV snapped.

  I leaned in closer to the TV, squinting my eyes. “Mom?"

  A horizontal line shifted through the snarl on Mom's face, distorting it into a commercial for Beta Fiber for half a second before clearing. “Who else?"

  "Why are you in my TV?” At least she hadn't popped into my living room.

  "Have you seen what they're charging for international phone calls? This is a helluva lot cheaper, and you can see how pissed I am, without me working so hard to get my point across and avoiding the whole resorting to the use of profanity thing that I do so well.” She had a point there.

  "I guess Melina told you about my probation.” I flinched, because I knew what her reaction would be.

  "Probation my ass. You've been sitting around doing nothing, and she finally caught on to your little games. I'm surprised she didn't ship you home.” The General Lee clipped her in the ear as it crashed into the side of the river bank. I suppressed a giggle as Mom slapped the car out of her way.

  "It wasn't like that."

  "Don't lie to me.” Her finger poked the picture into 3-D. “I raised you, for Morloque's sake."

  I hate it when she's right. I'd been too lazy, and decidedly too perky for my own good. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my attitude would one day come back to bite me in the ass, but who really thought about stuff like that when they're living the high life?

  "I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment to you, Mom.” Not really, but now wasn't the time to open my mouth with something as suicidal as the truth.

  "Well, I've learned to live with it.” Please ignore her. Morloque knows I wish I could.

  "Did you call for something, besides to bust my chops?” It slipped out before I could stop myself. I thanked Morloque she was too far away to spell a bar of soap into my mouth.

  "No, dear, basically the whole reason for this call is to make sure you don't screw this up. I had your room turned into a sauna, and there is no longer a place for you to stay in the big house."

  I was smart enough to read between the lines. She didn't want me to come home. More importantly, she didn't want the stigma attached to having her failure of a daughter anywhere close to her. Thanks Mom. I can feel the love from here.

  "I'm not planning to fail, mother. My assignment is coming along quite nicely. By now he should be well on his way to making a total fool of himself.” I saw no need to mention the guilt I felt over the fact.

  "Famous last words of a fool.” Even though she mumbled it, I could hear her. I suspected she wanted me to. Mothers are evil like that. “I don't have all day to baby you. Your father is taking me out for our anniversary. Thanks for not sending us a card."

  With that, my TV went back to The Dukes of Hazard.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 8

  With my morning shot, I fully expected my afternoon to not fair much better. It shaped up to be one of those days. Since I wasn't going to enjoy it anyway, I finished my cleaning, and even did a spot of laundry. The dishes could soak until tomorrow, or until I needed something to eat off. Nasty as hell of me, but do I look like I gave a damn? Just ask anybody who knows me. I'd busted my gave-a-damn long time ago and I never filed an insurance claim to get it fixed.

  The only good thing about my crappy mood was that my cleaning had wasted much of my day, but it had done little to take my mind off Gregory. For some reason, his goofy face and delicious body kept running through my mind all day. My body had flip-flopped between chills and hot flashes all afternoon. It was enough to make me think menopause had set in. Thankfully, I had a few hundred years to worry about that curse, or blessing, depending on which mood you happened to find me in.

  The dimming light of dusk captured the kitchen window, bringing my exhaustion down on top of me. I'd given up trying to blot him from my mind. Let him stay there. Misery was good for the soul. It let the wicked fester.

  I grabbed the least disgusting glass from the sink, and rinsed the hell out of it. Skipping the ice, I went straight for the tea. Pulling it out of the fridge I poured a tall, sickeningly sweet glass without even worrying about adding ice. What did I need ice for? Okay, I was too lazy to break up the cubes and refill the tray. Sue me. I cleaned the house. Wasn't that good enough for you people? I'm leaving the half-empty pitcher out on the counter to attract ants. Want to bitch about that, too?

  I nuked a Hot Pocket, and headed for the couch. I wanted to watch a little TV and veg for the evening, but my Mom's earlier hijacking of the airwaves had scared me off of the boob tube for life. Well, for tonight anyway. The thought of two maternal visits in one day was more than my frazzled nerves could take.

  The blank screen mocked me as melted cheese dribbled down my chin. The doorbell rang, sending the rest of the filling shooting into my cleavage. With a few choice profanities I flew from the couch ready to curse whoever decided to add to the not-so-perfect end to my day. I tossed the empty Hot Pocket toward the wall, and marched for the door, ignoring the smell of burnt, cheesy boob.

  Once there, I threw it open with sufficient force to let loose enough Neverland for a hundred tinkerbells to soar into the living room before flying into a bug zapper I'd installed for just such an occasion. The scent of fried fairy instantly filled the room. I wrinkled my nose, adding another mark against whoever had picked that particular moment to darken my door.

  I flung my finger back for the patented frog in a jar special when I caught sight of the face that had been dancing through my dreams all day. Gregory looked so pitiful I slammed the finger in my ear, blasting a few hundred decibels of white noise through my brain pan. The things I do in the name of ... Well, damned if I know why I did it!

  "Gregory, what a pleasant surprise!” I yelled, perhaps a little too loud. In my own defense, I had become deaf in one ear, and was possibly bleeding from the other one.

  "Uh, mind if I come in?” Gregory mumbled, as he walked in without waiting for me to answer.

  "Sure. Mi casa, yo casa!” Again, with the shouting. I'm sure he thought I'd gone peculiar or something. I'm a witch after all. There was no telling what he had swirling around in his human brain. For some reason, that fact bothered me.

  He slumped into a chair, hanging his head between his legs. “Nikki, I hate to bother you."

  "No bother, sweetie. You're my client. That means my door is open to you until you're perfectly satisfied."Or when I need a little satisfying, I kept to myself. “Why d
on't you tell me what's wrong?"

  I sat down in front of him, gathering his hands in mine. He was trembling. I'm sure it resulted from the sight of my massive boobs jiggling in his face. They are awe-inspiring and, I'm sure, enough to make a mere mortal quiver.

  "Nikki.” His gaze was glued to them. What did I tell you?

  "Yes, Gregory."

  "Did you know there appears to be a glob of ham and cheese between your breasts?” Sometimes, I fear the world conspires against me.

  "How cavalier of you to point that out.” I dropped his hands, and scooted back to the couch.

  "I'm sorry.” His shoulders slumped even more, shoving a wedge of guilt through me.

  Where the hell was all this shit coming from? I knew watching all those afternoon self-help talk shows would bite me in the butt somewhere down the line. Well, there was the line, and man, did my butt hang over it.

  "Forget it, Greg.” I reached down, plucked the cheese free of my cleavage, and gave it a toss toward the kitchen. “You were going to tell me what was troubling you."

  The poor baby made to move from the chair. “If this is a bad time, I can come back."

  I clamped my leg around his, and flipped him back into the chair. “Nope, I'm totally free and ready to help you with whatever you need."

  "You sure?"

  He continued to drone on, as I nodded without looking too bored. Since twiddling my thumbs would defeat that purpose, I endured until I heard something interesting enough to break my wool gathering.

  "I did like you said this morning. I got up and went to work."

  Now I knew the reason he looked like crap. There went the guilt back-flips again.

  "And did your true love find you?” Amazing how that question tasted just like bile.

  "I thought so. Nikki, she was amazing. Everything I'd ever looked for in a woman. Smart, funny, and beautiful. To be honest with you, I'd seen her every day in the coffee shop I stop in every morning before going to work. I'd noticed her, but never thought she'd given me a second glance. Then, this morning, she bumps into me, and asks me if I would pass her the non-dairy creamer. I knew then, it was just like you said. She was my true love."