The Spell of Six

by Casey Morgan

  As far as I was concerned, they could give up trying to impress her right now. I would rebound from this fuck-up, and then I’d make sure that I was the one fucking her tonight.

  Chapter Four

  David

  I never believed there was a God. I never believed that dreams could come true.

  At least, not until my usually-suave, usually-flawless twin brother made an ass of himself and assumed our sweet little Gwendolyn was being bullied by a boss, and not the boss herself. In that moment when I saw him have to eat his words. Get shot down by a beautiful, sassy mistress and commander, it was a thing of beauty. A fucking miracle.

  And now, while she was off filling our drink orders — a margarita with passion fruit juice for me, vodka and cranberry juice for Eric, a rum and Coke for Alex, and a dry martini for Travis — I got to savor it to my heart’s content.

  I didn’t say anything. Give any rib or barb to him. Just watching him blush and squirm in his chair, sweat under his longer, brighter hair, that was enough.

  He caught me looking after a few minutes and looked like he was about to die. Or take my eyes out with a disposable straw he was busy unwrapping in preparation for his drink.

  I just shrugged and gave him a look that said, “Wasn’t my mouth that got you in trouble. It was yours.”

  Over my twin brother silent riot, our other two friends made remarks about our lovely waitress. Our server for the evening.

  “This place is emptier than I remember it being in the past,” said Eric.

  “Yeah, I used to come here a lot more a few years ago, and it was hopping with people,” Robert remarked. “That was before the other lady, Cora, died. She used to run this place. Gwendolyn must have took it over after her, I guess. You know? People used to say old Cora was a witch.”

  Travis hummed thoughtfully.

  “If that’s her daughter or granddaughter, I feel bad for her. Won’t ask her about any of it, but I can see some reasons for the vacancy. The interior is a bit outdated.”

  I hated to admit it, but while I was waiting for her to return with our drinks — watching Gwendolyn from behind the bar every few seconds — I’d noticed that too. A distinctly “dated” vibe. It wasn’t bad, if you liked that sort of thing. But neither was it good, if you were looking for a happening place to hang out. Especially if you were in your twenties or thirties.

  The restaurant was something my own dad and granddad would have been interested in. It had an old European, medieval feel to it, but not really appealing to most people our age. Not with all the newer, trendier kinds of buildings being brought into this stretch of the town.

  This was something that I also understood might be causing problems for Gwendolyn’s business. There were many empty seats I saw around us, though patrons have started to flow in. Trickle in.

  Finally, Gwendolyn returned to our table. She brought five drinks balanced on a dark, circular tray, and then she served them to us. Mine first. This was an opportunity I didn’t want to waste a moment of.

  As she set my drink down, I grabbed her hand purposefully. Directly, slipping my business card in between her fingers.

  “Thank you for bringing me something so tasty, Gwendolyn,” I said, my voice loud enough to irritate Alex.

  Now he really looked like he wanted to murder me with that straw or make it so I would have to eat and drink through it for the rest of my life. For moving in on his girl. His reason for wanting to come here. I got it now. This was why he insisted we go to this different bar.

  “I’m sure I will enjoy every drop of it,” I added, categorically ignoring Alex.

  It was one of my talents, in addition to running a successful business, turning my playful, wandering brother into a hard, artistic, technological genius.

  Gwendolyn blushed, spying my name on the card. That was what I gave it to her for. My name and contact info, less for a business opportunity and more for something else.

  This was different and strange for me, since I’d made a vow to avoid any kind of connection with women. Especially after what happened with Maxine, my college girlfriend, and her cheating on me with an ex-friend of Eric’s. I didn’t even want to remember the bastard’s name, but my masochistic brain would never forget. Carl-Fucking-Axelrod.

  And it was only because of Eric’s warnings to me that I even knew what she was doing to me behind my back.

  So, it was for this reason that, as I gave her my card, I was already taken with her. As was everyone else at the table.

  But, while we seemed to be easily swayed toward jealousy, Gwendolyn seemed happy and willing to dote on all of us. Equally. Serving all of us our drinks, I saw nothing else but her beautiful smile. Nothing more than a larger, more loving reception to each guy. To all of us at once, and separately.

  And that’s when I made the second surprising decision of the night. A vow that I was going to get her to pay attention to me more than any of the others. More than my twin, and more than my friends.

  And I started my vow, my plan, by sipping my drink in front of her. By letting her hear my pleasure at it. The skill behind this masterpiece. I said so, knowing that she was the master craftswoman behind every drink, not just mine. But I wanted her to feel special.

  In a matter of minutes, I went from having no plans to involve myself with a woman to making it my mission to have her highlight me out of the other three.

  For the rest of the night, I made good on my promise. For the next three or four hours, I continued to flirt with her. Make any and every attempt to get her attention. To strike up a conversation with her, though I know I’m not usually so sociable or friendly.

  Now that I’d decided she should treat me the same but different out of my fellow men, I found courage I didn’t even know I had. Virility I thought had all been lost after Maxine.

  But, even with my increased attention given to her, even with my commitment to getting and keeping her attention, Gwendolyn seemed happy to lavish us all with her presence. Serve all of us more conversation and libations, no matter my attempts to separate myself from the pack or distinguish myself.

  Through it all, she was committed to remaining equal and fair. She saw me, and what I was trying to do, but politely brushed it aside. Moved it away, in favor of giving caresses and words all to us. To have all of us feel like her VIPs.

  Still, my attempt was valiant. My goal was a good one, and as I watched her smile and pet other hands and fingers, I wondered if I could come out the winner. If I could get her to lavish me with more in the end, even though her generosity, patience and openness seemed boundless. Every woman had a favorite, didn’t she?

  Chapter Five

  Robert

  I could tell what was going on here. Alex, David, Eric and Travis were all smitten with the waitress— make that owner— of this restaurant. And I had to admit that Gwendolyn was very easy on the eyes.

  I’d heard she was a witch. So I really shouldn’t be entertaining sexual thoughts about her. Humans and paranormal creatures weren’t supposed to mix.

  Plus, the fairy and other paranormal folk in Luck’s Hollow held a mean grudge against humans. They thought we were out to destroy them. But really we just wanted to bring the value of technology to their town. We could mutually help one another, but most of the paranormal folk around here didn’t see it that way.

  Still, there was no harm in fantasizing about her. I wasn’t going to act on it. I felt that human women were wily enough in their ways— if you threw a witch and her magic spell powers into things, I was sure I’d never see my heart again.

  I just sat back and enjoyed watching her curvy hips sway as she walked to the bar and back again. I liked seeing her cleavage peak out from her shirt as she bent over to serve us our drinks.

  I wanted to bend her over and put my hands on that plump ass of hers. Then I’d spread her ass cheeks and stick my cock into her tight little pussy. I had never been with a witch before, but I bet all of that supernatural energy would make her nice
and wet.

  I knew that my friends and business associates were all thinking the same thing. It was almost embarrassing, how they were all fawning over her, vying for her attention.

  I wasn’t going to play their stupid games. They were clearly all jealous of each other and wanted to be the one to win her over.

  Well, one of them could have her, gladly. She was the hottest thing I’d seen in this small town but that didn’t mean I wanted to actually get with her.

  Witches were known to love fiercely and want long-term relationships. Commitment was something that I just didn’t fucking do.

  I had seen what happened to my dad when he had given into the powers of a human woman, let alone a witch. My mom had used him for his money and affection. But it turned out that all along she had been cheating on him.

  When he found out and they got divorced, she took him for all he was worth. She was also supposed to get custody of my sister and me, but she was never around. She enjoyed running around with a variety of different men instead of spending time with her family.

  So, we stayed with my dad most of the time, only visiting with my mom when she felt like it and he forced us to, since he thought it was good for us to keep a relationship up with her, even though neither of us wanted to. And he worked hard to get the tech company he had founded back on track so that we could have financial security once again.

  After that, he never seriously dated another woman, and I didn’t blame him. I knew, without wanting to pry, or really caring, that he had random dates or hook ups with women he would meet on business or around town. But he made sure to keep his distance and not get involved with them, lest history repeat itself.

  I learned well from my dad. I was intent on protecting the business I’d build up with my friends and business partners. That meant one night stands only. I was great at hitting and quitting it, never to be seen or heard from again.

  And in this small town, with mostly paranormal women to choose from, that was too hard to do. Whenever I could sneak in a day or weekend trip and find a willing one night stand in a neighboring city— which wasn’t hard, since women seemed to throw themselves at me and my six-foot, four-inch frame— I would satisfy my carnal urges. And I had plenty of fantasies, like the one I was having for Gwendolyn right now.

  But in terms of actually hooking up with someone local, who could destroy what I’ve built so far? No thanks.

  The other guys could have her. I would keep it to fantasy only, because I was smarter than they were. I’d learned it the hard way— through my good ole dad.

  So, I sat there at the Lucky Spell Pot sipping the new brew—I liked its tangy but strong flavor—and watching my friends make fools out of themselves over Gwendolyn. I knew better than to compete in their losing game, even if the prize was fucking out of this world hot.

  Chapter Six

  Eric

  I’ve never been the best, smoothest or most clever flirt in the world. In high school, college or anywhere else. And here in The Lucky Spell Pot, it was no different.

  Instead of trying to strike up conversation after conversation with Gwendolyn, like David, or try to get her to be silly and playful with him like Alex, I just settled for ordering more and more to drink and eat. More and more alcohol and food of varying types and potencies, just to have her keep coming back to the table. Just to have her coming to serve us over and over again, never mind that the more I drank, the more I became loose-lipped.

  The more I lost coordination, and any sense that I wasn’t being super obvious in my attentions. Super dorky.

  But, hey. Some women really liked that. The geeks. The dorks. The obvious, so maybe we could just say I was going for that. Playing to that, though it really wasn’t ever that well thought out. It was just the most obvious, most direct way I could get her to remain with us. In our sphere, which was all I wanted.

  Robert wasn’t joining in on any of it, and I wasn’t surprised. He made sure to keep his distance from girls, except for out of town ones who wanted quick hook-ups. So he and I were pretty quiet, while the rest of the guys engaged in pissing matches to see who she wanted to hook up with more.

  I ordered probably close to ten, maybe eleven different drinks and five different plates of appetizers. I didn’t finish all of them, but enough to not seem rude. I just wanted more excuses to stay and talk to Gwendolyn. I had to admit that I was downright smitten by her curvy body and pretty eyes.

  Between that and the few plates Alex and David start getting in a contest over, Gwendolyn was running back and forth between the kitchen and our table for most of the evening.

  We affectively monopolized her. Which was fine and dandy, since there weren’t very many other people coming in to sit down. A few men and women, but none as respectful or interested in her as we were.

  In the haze of alcohol and delicious fried food, we quickly lost sense of time. At least, I did. It was like I was under a spell. Before I knew it, Alex was putting up the “closed” sign on the door. Flipping it to the reverse, and helping Gwendolyn lock up.

  At that same time, I noticed we are the only ones left, the five of us, and for some reason I’d decided I really wanted and needed that dance with this beautiful woman. The one Alex tried to order, but didn’t succeed in getting at the beginning of the evening.

  I asked her for a dance, just as Alex finished his business with her sign, her locks and keys. I jumped up out of my seat, and took her in hand, before I—or anyone else for that matter— realized what I was doing. As a result, I was swaying, pseudo-waltzing with Gwendolyn before she could refuse and before anyone else could get in on it.

  As I said, I’ve never been the greatest or smoothest pick up artist. I tend to be blunt. Sometimes eloquent, but mostly straightforward. Committed to myself and my feelings, once I’ve had them, so it was no surprise when I leaned up into her long red hair and whispered in her ear, “I want you. I want to have you as my final drink of the night.”

  Of course, she was surprised. Nervous with that admission of mine, given how many other things I had had to drink. But I really felt that way. Holding her the way I was, it felt better than anything had the right to feel.

  But here was someone new, a bartending ballerina in my mind, who was making me feel things I didn’t know I’d be able to feel again. Butterflies in my stomach as if I was asking a girl to the middle-school dance.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I told her quietly, watching her push away slightly. “I won’t take what you won’t give willingly. I’m not a bastard.”

  I wasn’t. Unlike my ex-friend, Carl, I actually cared about people. So, even as I moved to pull her back toward me, to tell her again how much I wanted her, I was careful. Respectful.

  “Just a little sip?” I asked, leaning in to kiss her. My lips brushed her chin.

  “You’re going too fast,” she said softly. Regretfully, as if she felt like she had to say that in this situation, whether she wanted to or not, whether she felt that way or not. Her dark eyes and face echoed this, as she moved away.

  But, if she were hoping to escape attention by doing so, she only escaped mine.

  Immediately upon breaking free of my hold, she was scooped up by Travis. The way he swooped in, bracing her from her near-trip-and-fall, and spun her into the perfect dancing position, made me jealous. Also awestruck.

  For someone I’d known to be full of attitude—feisty aloofness at best and unsure, clammed-up quietness at worst—he was a regular Romeo at the ball. And, as far as I was concerned, legitimate, frustrating competition. Something Alex looked like he agreed with me on.

  Chapter Seven

  Travis

  The moment that Gwendolyn was in my arms, I never wanted her to leave. It just felt right to me, which, by all accounts, should have been so, so wrong.

  Usually, with this kind of dancing, I spent more time worrying about getting the steps right. Getting the moves down; the way they were supposed to go, but not now. Not here.

  I was st
rangely relaxed. Strangely at peace, dancing with Gwendolyn. In no particular way, but gliding with her like she was something worth gentleness. Worth diving deeper into, which I definitely wanted to do.

  As my luck would have it, the moment I had this thought, the perfect slow song came on over the jukebox. A jukebox I didn’t even know was there until the music came on, and swept under my feet like a bit of movie magic.

  I slid one hand down her back, testing my boundaries and hers. Nothing. I then moved my hand to her waist and then hips. Still nothing much. A shy, I-know-what-you’re-doing-and-I’m-not-sure-I’m-into-it-but-I’m-not-going-to-say-anything-yet smile. Not the encouragement I was looking for.

  So, I continued my dancing path with her, careful to avoid the tables and chairs. I also avoided the glares I got from Alex, standing by the magic jukebox. It was him who had given us our current dancing rhythm, and yet he wasn’t getting to enjoy it.

  Sweeping my medium-length black hair back with a toss of my head, I said, “Sorry if you’re not enjoying yourself. I’m not much of a dancer. This kind of dancing, anyway.” I was trying to come across as debonair and ineffectual. “I’m more of a club and rave kind of guy. Not all this slow dancing stuff.”

  I tried to make it sound like I had the makings of a cool, bad boy. A guy Gwendolyn would enjoy running off with tonight and having sex with, even if that wasn’t her plan, because I was just that appetizing. That thrilling.

  Though I worked to exude this kind of aura, and flash her a 1950s-heart-throb grin (something I thought she might find irresistible, and comforting, since she looked as unsure as I felt), Gwendolyn didn’t immediately flirt back. Not at the level I wanted her to. She didn’t make a move to come closer or wrap some fingers around my neck or something.