Trevor Holloway leaned back in his chair, and looked across the table at his companion with a pleased look on his face. Morrigan tilted her head down in a gesture of faux demureness, the corners of her mouth turning up in a bemused smile which she concealed by taking a sip of her tea.
Trevor had dated every woman in the office except Morrigan, and now she had finally agreed to at least have coffee with him. And to Trevor, "dated" meant "slept with." Morrigan was alluring and somewhat mysterious... some of the office gossip even said that she was a witch. Trevor didn't believe in witchcraft, but the rumor certainly added to his desire for her.
"So," he said, deciding to approach the subject head-on, as was his nature. "Is it true that you're a witch?"
Morrigan put down her tea and tossed her head slightly. "I do study some of the magical arts."
"Which ones?" he asked, spreading some butter on his croissant.
"Plant magic, primarily," she replied. "I read Tarot cards. The person who taught me gave me a little instruction in voodoo. And of course, Celtic magic."
"Of course?" Trevor asked.
"It's my heritage. Or perhaps rather, my inheritance." She paused and watched him. "You're skeptical?"
Trevor shrugged. "I don't really believe in the supernatural. But I'm intrigued. It's interesting."
"It is interesting," Morrigan replied. "And it really doesn't matter whether you believe in it or not."
He nodded, still smiling. She was being slightly aloof, but also somehow inviting. Like, "if you dare." And Trevor certainly dared.
"So," she said abruptly, "You want to have sex with me."
He twitched a bit at her forwardness, and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure that would be very... enjoyable," he said, recovering. "If we enjoy ourselves at dinner and both want that."
She took another sip. "I've heard some of the women in the office say that you have quite an impressive penis."
He grinned widely. "So I've been told."
Morrigan shifted in her chair. "We can have dinner together. And if I decide to do more, you can come back to my house. And sex will involve you locking that impressive penis in a chastity cage, and kneeling naked in front of me and sucking my toes."
His eyes got wide for a moment, then he burst into laughter. "Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen. I mean, unless you really can work some kind of witchcraft..."
Morrigan just raised her eyebrows. "Perhaps we will see. Pick me up at eight on Saturday?"
Trevor was wildly amused. But also surprisingly aroused. And, he suddenly realized, extremely uncomfortably hard inside his slacks. "It's a date," he said.
Saturday morning Trevor drove down to an unfamiliar part of town and, after driving down several streets that didn't seem to be showing up on his Waze, parked his car and started walking.
He was excited about his upcoming date with Morrigan, but he was also very unsettled about her suggestion of what she would accept as intimate activity later tonight. The idea of being naked and caged, on his knees before her, was ridiculous... but the image had invaded his dreams every night this week. And she did claim to be a witch. So he had decided to do a little research and invest in some precautionary measures.
He finally tried a narrow, unmarked street that was really more of an alley, and halfway down it found a half-flight of steps leading down to a garden apartment with a number that corresponded to the note scrawled by the bartender the night before.
The name on the mailbox was Loveridge. This was the place. He knocked on the door.
