A young man took an energetic step outside, breathing in the fresh summer air. The streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of shopping and leisure, all swinging to the tune of the uptown groove.
In this town filled with life, so too was he. The feeling of being freed from work for the day always sent him into a warm joy, and today, he would be going to that special little place, a mysterious building, dim and covered in shades of violet. It was the witch's store.
He stumbled across it during one of his early days as a barista, seemingly out of chance. Walking out of the little cafe squished between all the bigger places on main street, he was filled with adventurous curiosity and decided to explore town. Down, down the street and around the corner, he figured he had reached the end of the all the action, but just out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the place, Maple's Witchcraft & Books. He wasn't one to believe in magic or anything of the sort, but through the window, he saw something peculiar:
A woman with a pretty face with a dangerously bored expression.
On his first visit in, he learned that she was indeed named Maple, and she was a witch, or at least, referred to herself in that way.
Not to mention, that pretty face of hers was even better up close. It may have been because of his nature as a man, or perhaps it was all a part of her spell, but regardless, he felt the urge to see her again today.
Though he was filled with vigor, he opened the door slowly, as the atmosphere seemed to demand it. Once again, the witch was sitting at her counter, looking for something to do. But when she saw the man come in again, her bored expression changed into an acutely interested one.
"Come back for more, have you?" she said, giving him a smile that was guilty of melting more than a few hearts.
As a woman, she was certainly well-endowed, and if her dress told anything, it's that she was well aware. Her hair was, fitting to her name, an autumnal orange, silky smooth and flowing in such a way that heightened her whole appearance.
It was her eyes, though, that seemed to captivate the man. They were a dark scarlet, and filled with the passion of life, yet they also seemed to be a dark void that one could lose themselves in if they weren't careful.
"You might say that" the man replied.
He flipped casually through one of the books on the counter, a decently sized tome that the witch had likely been reading before. It talked of humans and souls and magic, though he couldn't exactly comprehend what any of it was about, nor did he care.
"What's all this about 'magic' and souls, hm?" he said, running his hand through his hair, trying to warm her up to conversation.
"How would a guy like me use magic?"
She gave a sly grin, like a cat entertaining a clever little mouse.
"You don't, silly. All that energy your soul makes is used up for your consciousness. You'd need... to take more souls for real magic. But I won't go into all that. Why don't you just keep reading these books you seem to love so much while I go stock these ones?"
The man agreed, resuming his peruse through a world he knew nothing about. But it was hardly half a minute before his eyes turned from the tome to the witch, lifting books off her cart and into the shelves. She moved graciously, with her shapely ass tightening against her dress every time she put another one back.
Perhaps she knew he was looking, but if she did, she didn't say a thing.
"You know, these rituals and potions look real terrifying," the man said from the counter, noticing that she was about done, "do you really do it all? Have you ever taken a soul, hm?"
"Since you're a returning customer, I suppose I could tell you..."
