Note: Special thanks to Goddess Hannah for inspiring this story.
*
The long walk from the hotel entrance to its bar felt like one of the longest of the week, but the only satisfying one. A tedious, soul-draining week almost brought Cheryl wanting to crawl her way to a bar stool, but she made it upright. Setting her purse on the bar, gently tipping her head back, she allowed herself a deep breath, literally trying to exhale the week's collective number of work and life annoyances that made its end so much sweeter.
Dressed in a muted navy of flats, skirt, and jacket over a white blouse, and strands of hair slightly strewn about, Cheryl looked to be the epitome of happy hour - ready to get sloshed, uncaring of anyone else's opinion, ready to drown another bad week away. Surveying the surprisingly vacant bar, she smiled at the small number, a limited number of possibilities of ruining her evening plans. Little to no men were around to try to hit on her, and the closest occupants was the female bartender who'd given a brief, understanding smile, and another woman two stools away.
She was younger than Cheryl's 33, a brunette like her, but with streaks of red highlights, a deep shade of red matching her nail polish. Her clothing was almost identical, except for having heels and the material being a lustrous leather. She was fairly tall for a woman, with an average figure that was somehow very alluring even to weary eyes. There was something about her; maybe in the way she dangled a heel off her feet, giving a nice little show of how attractive her feet were somehow. Much of the charm she exuded lied perhaps in the way she carried herself, a confidence in her still body language, aware of who she was, comfortable with it, and with the possibility of the deep draw she possessed. Maybe it was something in the smile she smiled, a classic Mona Lisa expression suggestively uttering "I know something you might not know. Yet."
The brunette sighed, wishing she could be like her, confident and happy. "Or next to her," a voice in her head uttered, signaling to the blonde bartender with the name Sabrina on her employee tag to order a strong-enough drink to kill the brain cells thinking such things. She gave another sigh, feeling more freedom from all recent concerns, more audible than before.
"Do one for me too while you're at it," a beautiful, English-accented voice suggested from somewhere, Cheryl's head turning to see the other woman looking her way. Her smile, her face was even more beautiful, giving direct attention, with dark-green eyes that almost looked like they could glow in the dim lighting.
"I....I'm sorry, what?" a stunned Cheryl stumbled over her words.
"The sigh, that deep breath. I know it too well; the one that usually signifies the end of a struggling week, where you just want most things to be over, and focus on what you really want." She emulated Cheryl's deep breath almost perfectly, even though she seemed very at peace, making the other patron glad someone understood.
"Whatever kind of week you had, I'm glad it's over."
"Thanks," Cheryl said, being handed her drink as Sabrina smiled at the younger woman, asking if she wanted a refill. A shake of her pretty head left her enjoying what little she had left, and left the server looking just happy to be of service.
"I'm Hannah, by the way."
"Cheryl," she politely offered, a little afraid of the woman, and the obvious draw she possessed.
"To the end of the week," the red-streaked brunette raised her glass.
"To the end of the week," Cheryl raised hers, watching Hannah smoothly close the distance and extend her glass to meet Cheryl's with a satisfying *clink*, taking a closer seat.
"And hopefully the beginning of something better."
There was an almost musical grace in how Hannah spoke. Coupled with an accent pleasant and charming to American ears, her voice was subtle but carried a presence to it, garnering attention easily. Cheryl couldn't tell from Hannah's last statement if she was being hit on, or just offered general well wishes, and felt parts of her respond with not minding either. Closer proximity to Hannah gave the older woman more exposure to the alluring energy she radiated, realizing a little too late that that Cheryl was staring longer than she meant to, looking away to pretend tending to her own drink.
"Excuse me if I'm guessing wrong Cheryl, but...advertising?"
Pausing at the accurate guess, Cheryl eventually turned her head to see Hannah happy to have guessed correctly.
"How'd you guess that?"
"I meet a lot of advertisers and marketers in my line of work. Lots of great imaginations, and lots of mental fatigue around the weekend, unfortunately a little more than most other professions."
"Oh?" Cheryl questioned the vague assertion, but couldn't readily argue against it with her own experience. "What's your profession, Hannah?"
"Magician, part time."
She smartly waited for Cheryl to set her drink down to answer that question, knowing the kind of reaction her answer would give, not having to look Cheryl's way to see a blended look of interest and disbelief.
"Really?" Cheryl tried sounding genuinely interested.
Sensing Sabrina approaching, Hannah produced paper money out of thin air to pay for her drinks.
"Really," the blonde commented. "She's really good at it."
"Wow," Cheryl let the information sit for a bit, trying to sound interested and not condescending. "That must be quite a career."
"You'll have to excuse the terrible pun, Cheryl, but it has been pretty magical for me."
"And you work with a lot of marketing and advertising people?"
"Stage shows, mostly. After doing it a while, you can get a sense of some people or some types. There's a bit of mentalism that goes on in my shows too, and it's a very nice bonus to get the ones at higher risk of stress to really relax and enjoy themselves."
"Really?" The tenor of Cheryl's voice dropped the neutral, polite tone and carried genuine interest. "How so?"
"Just a bit of magic to take their minds off things, replacing the every day stress and worry that comes with earning a check with the reward of fascination and effortless fun that you don't have to control, nor will you want to." Gesticulating with her hands, Hannah let flitting fingers and practiced hand motions punctuate how fascinating her performances could be, shiny red nails flashing gently into her eyes. "I can give you a small demonstration, if you like."
"You mean...right here?"
"Magic is everywhere, Cheryl." Hannah smiled a more seductive Mona Lisa smile, drawing her audience of one in more as theatrical fingers pulled a white pen from around her top, as if directly from out of her cleavage. "You just have to be interested enough to let it find you."
The pen was almost a pristine color, glowing like a light saber as she twirled it between her fingers, slowly moving to keep Cheryl's eyes eagerly fixed for the next trick.
"Take my pen, for example. Such a simple-looking pen; you wouldn't think it held any kind of real power at all. But just like the power of words a pen can have by writing them, the power of my pen is anything but simple."
