Many thanks to tangentjoker, who edited this story.
All characters are 18 or older.
*****
It was a beautiful spring day, the kind that brings on spring fever. It was Saturday of the Memorial Day weekend. I had gone out to the park, to laze on a bench soaking up the warmth and the sun.
It was late morning. The park was not far from the downtown area. On a weekday, the area would be starting to fill up with office workers on lunch break. Many days, I would have been one of them.
My name is Calvin, last name Heathweed. I am the only child of a well-to-do family. My mother is an accountant, my father a lawyer. I work at a bank not far from the park. The city where the park is located is of medium size situated in the upper Midwest. It is a prosperous city, the banking business is competitive, but we all seem to be profitable. The bank I work at is a mid-sized regional bank. I am a loan officer, a very junior loan officer.
A few words about myself. Well, actually, about myself as I was at that time. I had graduated from college three years before. The bank was a first job, after graduation. I had a nagging worry that I was not doing as well as I should, career wise. My boss was a lady in her early fifties. She was a micromanager and tended to nitpick. But, as far as I could tell, she had always given me good evaluations.
I had just turned twenty-five. I was single, with no present girlfriend. I had never had a girlfriend for very long. There had only been a few. My sex life was sparse. I rarely had a date and only a few of them resulted in getting laid.
A big part of the problem, it affected me at work too, was my looks. I am short, and very slim. My height is 5' 4". I weigh barely 130. I look like a baby. No kidding, I look like a fifteen year old without the pimples. I am constantly ID checked. I have even had bars refuse to serve me after I had shown them my license. They thought it was a fake.
At work, it is the same. People find it hard to take anyone seriously who looks like a teenager. My boss, Ms. Bungee, was a little better, usually. But even she used baby talk once in a while. I tried growing a beard, but it didn't help. It was thin and wispy.
All that was really not on my mind that day. I was just sitting, sprawled really, on the bench, soaking up the sun. The clicking noise of high heels caught my attention. I let my eyes drift towards the sidewalk to watch a woman, probably in her mid-forties, striding by.
She was well dressed in a business suit with a purse hanging from her shoulder. She was about my height with a compact body. Her steps were long and confident. Her face was pretty, framed by shoulder length dark brown hair. She didn't seem to have used much makeup. Her expression, like her walk, was confident. Her breasts were not large, but looked right for her. What I could see of her legs, below her skirt looked nice. Clad in nylons and moderate heels I had to rate them as lovely. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, she had a nice ass, too.
Two things struck me about her. One was her confident air. The other was that she seemed extremely feminine. Despite the somewhat severe suit and the striding walk.
I thought to myself,
"What an attractive woman. Too bad she's so much older than I."
When she was just a little way past, she looked back over her shoulder at me. She winked. No shit; she winked. It was then that I noticed the color of her eyes. They were purple; beautiful, gorgeous purple.
She walked a little further then stopped. She seemed to be listening to something. She abruptly turned and started back in my direction. I sat up straighter on the bench.
Heels clicking, she strode back to my bench. "May I sit down, Calvin?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer. She sat gracefully.
I think my mouth was open. I managed to stammer. "How did you know my name? I don't remember meeting you. I don't think I would have forgotten."
"You never met me before," she said. "I plucked it out of your mind. I'm a witch. But please don't let that frighten you. Very few witches are as bad as portrayed.
"I'm Heather, by the way," she added.
"What else did you pluck from my mind?" I asked. I was a trifle nervous now.
"That you think I am attractive and feminine. Thank you for that. Also that you think I am too old for you. I only picked up your surface thoughts. I'm not even listening for them now. To do so would be intrusive."
"I do think you are attractive," I answered. "I think my mind is changing about the age thing.
"Could you have put a spell on me?" I asked, anxiously.
She laughed, a tinkling laugh. All my life I have heard women's laughs described as tinkling. This is the very first time I ever heard a real tinkle, almost like a chime. "I could, but I didn't, I won't." she said. "It would take the fun out of things.
"There is a bistro not far from here," she said. "Let's go for a bite to eat and get acquainted."
We stood. She took my arm. We walked to the small restaurant about fifteen minutes away. We made small talk on the way. The weather, what I worked at, things like that. I tried to ask her about being a witch, but she wouldn't talk about that.
"I'll tell you everything you need to know when the time comes, Calvin."
The restaurant was on the edge of a shopping area. There were tables set up outside on the sidewalk. Several lady shoppers were seated.
We found a table, without other customers too close. We ordered coffee and pastries. Heather put her hand over mine as we waited for our order.
"Are you from here, or are you visiting?" I asked.
"Visiting," she replied. "I have to go back Tuesday."
"Can I show you around while you're here?" I asked.
"That would be lovely," she said. "But there's nothing I really want to see. Why don't we just have a quiet dinner together? I think you are attracted to me. I find myself liking you. Perhaps we should let nature take its course."
"Did she mean what I thought she did? Was it merely another fantasy?"
My thoughts were jumbled.
We sipped at our coffee, Heather nibbled at her pastry daintily. I ate mine slowly so I wouldn't finish too much ahead of her.
She looked at me solemnly. "Can I learn a little more about you?" She asked. "I won't without your permission. I won't look at anything too personal."
I was a little flummoxed. I wasn't sure about someone poking around in my mind. But she had asked.
"I guess so," I said hesitantly.
By this time, I was having fantasies about being in bed with her. I really didn't want her to see them. She smiled at my answer. I couldn't tell if she read my mind or not. She didn't seem to do anything.