Just A Little Magic Ch 05

JUST A LITTLE MAGIC Chapter 5

My heart was broken. I'd wanted so badly to be with Michelle, but she had obviously changed her mind. What was I supposed to do about it? She'd made her wishes clear.

Janine's agenda took precedence once again. She insisted that I go to the lake with her. There were a few nature trails, and we took a long walk together.

- "There will be plenty of time for dating, and for falling in love, Pete." she said. "But 26 and 27 year-old women aren't looking for the same things as girls straight out of high school. You weren't going to learn anything of lasting value with your little virgin."

Janine wasn't especially cruel. She just didn't understand what Michelle had meant to me - or what I'd meant to Michelle.

Which was why she'd arranged for her friend Daisy to meet us at the beach. Janine performed the introductions, and then explained that she had 'business to attend to', which would keep her busy for a few hours - after that, she would return to pick me up. Then she left us alone.

Daisy was ... hot. She had long brown hair, except for the last eight inches or so, which were red. She'd dyed her hair, but wasn't ready to cut it short, or to re-dye everything. She had nice legs, and what appeared to be a nice body.

- "You look ... sad, Pete." she said.

- "My girlfriend just broke up with me." I heard myself saying.

- "She's a fool." said Daisy. "You seem like a really nice guy."

Daisy offered to show me her beachfront apartment. I accepted her invitation. Why wouldn't I?

Daisy had a trim body, pierced nipples, and the tattoo of a phoenix on her lower belly, under her pierced navel. For the first time, I really understood the meaning of the word 'flaunting', as Daisy displayed her tight little hardbody for me.

Yes, I succumbed. I fucked the shit out of her. She had another huge tattoo, in the shape of an eagle, or a condor, on her back. She was very vocal, too.

I could have been Michelle's first. I had to wonder, instead, if I was in Daisy's top 100.

Janine was pleased.

- "You're ba-ack." she said.

***

When my second year of college began, Lillian and Janine decided that I was almost ready to begin performing as a magician. First, though, we would need money for props, costumes, and especially for travel expenses.

Lillian agreed that I could play in some poker tournaments. Most amateurs qualify by winning online. I wasn't a good poker player; I was a good mind reader - something I couldn't do through an internet connection.

That would mean that I had to buy in - paying to play.

I'd been happy to take money from Janine's old boyfriends. I still had a few qualms about cheating people that I'd just met.

- "They'll take all of your chips, Pete, if they think they can read your tells. And they'll do it with a smile on their face. Every single one of them would take your last dollar."

I was only 19 years old, which meant that I couldn't play in the U.S. - especially in the casinos - because they served alcohol, and the legal drinking age was 21. No Vegas for me.

But there were tournaments in the Toronto area, and in Montreal. I won $3600 in my first attempt. Then $8500. Janine advised me to avoid going too far - no final tables for me. We didn't want too much publicity - yet.

Janine got me into a big qualifying event in Toronto. I finished 12th (on purpose), taking home $16,000. I was excited.

- "That's just a start." she said. "Do you have any idea what airfare to Singapore is going to cost us? We're just getting started."

Janine was still training me in magic. But she also appointed herself my poker coach, briefing me on the players I might encounter.

- "What does it matter?" I asked. "I can see their cards!"

- "And they can see yours, if you're not careful. They can read your face, dumbass!"

She was my coach, mentor, supervisor, and advisor. She made sure that I ate well, exercised, and got plenty of sleep. She also enforced the 'No sex' rule on the nights before a tournament.

- "We don't want to tire you out."

She was right about that. All that concentrating on the other players' minds

was

tiring.

I had runs of crappy cards, where I couldn't do squat. One time, I couldn't call a bluff because I couldn't beat a king. But I managed to set up a couple of massive hands, where my opponents bet heavily, gambling that they could fill a straight, or a flush. Every once in a while, they

would

hit it on the river, and I had to swallow the loss of part of my stack.

Every now and then, I would make a bad call, and lose on purpose, so that I wouldn't seem infallible - just lucky. Few of the other players believed that someone my age could be a good poker player. Many of them called me 'kid'.

I couldn't win every hand, of course, or dodge every bullet. But I never risked everything unless I was absolutely sure.

There were a few eyebrows raised when I called a massive bluff with two pair.

It just wasn't as exciting as it had looked on TV. There

was

a certain camaraderie - three quarters of the players were courteous, and some were quite friendly. There were also a few attractive female players, who knew when the men at the table were checking them out.

But playing poker for hours - for several days in a row - was just a grind. It was physically and mentally exhausting. Janine stayed on top of me the whole time - alas, only metaphorically speaking.

We took the train to play in a tournament in Winnipeg, followed by Calgary and Vancouver. It was my first trip across Canada.

The tournaments were much the same. But Janine was working behind the scenes, and she got me into a few cash games after the competition was over.

People with more money than sense wanted to test themselves against the pros, and the successful amateurs. And they were prepared to pay for the opportunity.

Some of them made ridiculous bets, and crazy bluffs. Maybe they expected that skill would count more in the long run. They would go all in with weak hands, hoping to catch a lucky break, or to pull off a desperation bluff. They were basically

giving

me their money.

It was fun at first, but then it quickly became boring - another type of grind. I had to lose occasionally, but I still managed to win quite a bit. In fact, I won considerably more money in the cash games than I had collected in tournament winnings.

- "You know," I said to Janine, "maybe I should turn pro. I could make tons of money, and still become a celebrity."

Janine just shook her head.

- "Poker players are minor celebrities. It's a limited audience, in the first place - and mostly male. Yes, there are groupies, but you can guess what they're after."

- "My sense of humour?"

- ""Magicians are world famous, and appeal just as much to female fans. They love the mystery, the aura."

"You're also forgetting the travel aspects. There are no poker tournaments in some of the places we're going to need to go to. As magicians, we can schedule appearances almost anywhere in the world,

whenever

we want to. Instead of following the poker season, we can make our own schedule."

- "I hadn't thought of that. But maybe ... couldn't we keep poker as ... a sideline?"

- "If you're a magician, you're going to end up banned from every major casino, and every major tournament. Once they know you're a mentalist, they'll be watching you like a hawk."

- "But they don't believe in magic. Right?"

- "Nobody is more superstitious than poker players and casino owners - except maybe pro athletes. Haven't you noticed the ones who never change their clothes? But the poker officials are very suspicious of people who win."

"Look, Pete - it's really quite simple: magicians are hotter than poker players."

***

Early the following year, Lillian helped me to do my taxes. I certainly wasn't going to ask Bill, and I didn't want my mother to know how much I'd made.

From magic shows, I'd made $3,700.

From poker tournaments and cash games: $114,000.

***

I turned 20 in March.

Lillian held on to a big chunk of my money, so that we could use it to bankroll the magic show. But I had plenty left over.

First, I decided that it was time for me to move out. That meant that I had to talk to my best friend.

- "You want me to move in with you?"

- "C'mon - we were always going to be roommates." We'd been talking about it for years.

- "Yeah - but

after

we graduated." he said. "I mean - I don't know if I can afford it."

- "I can."

- "Dude ... I don't know ..."

- "Sammy, it's really simple: you pay what you can. Nothing, if that's what you have."

- "It doesn't sound right, Pete."

- "Tell me that you wouldn't do the same for me, if the roles were reversed."

- "How much money

do

you have?" Sammy wasn't jealous; he was genuinely pleased for me. He was uncomfortable about accepting what he called 'charity' - but he had to admit that if

he'd

won the lottery, I would have had to accept a share of his winnings.

On the subject of charity, I'd been wondering how to go about giving something back. Not just money, either. I broached the subject with Lillian.

- "Is there any way to do something good with my magic?" I asked her. "Like healing sick kids, or something?"

Lillian took me seriously. "I wish we could, Pete. But we can't cure illness. Do you know how to cure cancer?"

- "No."

- "Neither do I." she said.

- "Maybe I could just ... I don't know - visit sick kids. Do a magic show for them."

- "That would be a very good public relations move."

- "I wouldn't do it just for P.R. - it would be to cheer them up."

- "Still ..."

I pretended to abandon the idea. Then I went down to the Sick Kids Hospital, to find out how to go about volunteering.

It was a lot harder than I'd anticipated. They weren't about to let some wannabe entertainer loose in a ward full of genuinely sick kids.

But mind reading has its perks. I was able to find out who was really in charge, and to weasel myself an appointment with them. After a short demonstration, they were willing to give me a chance.

Once a week, I went to the hospital, to do a magic show. Best audience

ever

.

***

Janine and I had worked on our routine until we had it down pat. She handled all of the business aspects: getting us bookings, scheduling, and dealing with the money end. All I had to do was show up, and perform.

She talked me into accepting gigs on University campuses. I accepted, as long as they weren't at the college where I was enrolled.

Janine was amazing. First of all, she mesmerized all of the young males. They didn't want to draw her ire. Hecklers had little to no support - and she dealt with the few who persisted swiftly and ruthlessly.

Most of the red-blooded males wanted to impress her, or catch her eye - not piss her off. We got her some heels, and some very nice outfits, that showed a little leg, and a bit of cleavage ... and Janine had them eating out of her hand.

Meanwhile, I was busily fumbling and dropping things - and yet amazing them with my mentalism.

One volunteer - a jittery student - had trouble choosing a card. She got flustered, chose one, and then changed her mind.

- "Hmmm." I said. "Do you think I can do this?"

- "Ahh ... yes?" she guessed.

- "You're making my job really difficult. First, you pick the Queen of Spades, and then you change your mind, and go with the 7 of Hearts?"

The look on her face was priceless.

- "Oh my God ..." she breathed. "How did you know?"

The crowd's reaction was everything we could have asked for. Even better, several people had been (surreptitiously) recording the performance. Videos of this girl with me (it didn't hurt that she was super-cute) began to surface on You Tube and on Facebook pages.

***

Janine was an excellent performer. I got laughs, and of course the act wouldn't have worked without my mentalism, but she had great timing, and was quick on her feet. More than once, she ad-libbed us out of rough spots.

We continued to practice, almost every day. It didn't hurt for me to improve my mindreading skills, but what we really had to work on was our timing and footwork. It may sound easy to pick someone's pocket, and then to pass whatever you took to an accomplice - trust me, it's not.

Janine was very, very skilled, but I had to be in the right place at the right time, and we had to be able to make exchanges

without anyone being able to spot what we'd done

. That meant repetition. Practice. Over and over.

We also tried to add new elements to our routine. There's no shame in 'borrowing' ideas from other magicians - especially if they wouldn't recognize their own material after we were done with it.

Janine had another interesting ability; she was an expert at distinguishing between autograph hounds, photo tourists (who wanted selfies with us - well, usually her), magic enthusiasts, and groupies.

She got hit on after most every show. Her record in one night was six times. She kept it simple, with a polite refusal. It was pretty rare for any of the guys (and a couple of women) to get pushy. After seeing her performance at my Prom, I knew that she could handle just about anything.

I

was

curious, though. Janine had never pretended that we were exclusive. In fact, she was still pushing me to 'get out there', even though she'd stopped offering me 'incentives'. We still ended up in bed (or on the couch) from time to time - but she wasn't my girlfriend.

- "You're never ... tempted?" I asked her.

She laughed. "It's different for women, Pete. If I had sex with

one

guy after a show, the word would be all over town - and they'd be lined up three deep after every performance."

"I can find my own men, thank you very much. I don't have to take them from our audience."

Yet that was exactly what she kept encouraging me to do.

I met a quite a few young women. Some were volunteers during the show; others were fans who wanted to ask questions afterwards.

Janine picked the volunteers, if only to preserve the idea that I didn't know these people - that we hadn't set it all up in advance. Some people were too shy, or were afraid that I was going to 'do' something to them.

Most were fairly enthusiastic. Janine tended to choose women twice as often as men, and she frequently picked attractive young women.

I tried to talk her out of the habit. Some of our best moments were with older women, or - to be quite frank about it - women who were plain, and even ugly.

Sammy agreed with me. He came to many of our shows, and shared my tastes in TV shows and films. We had nothing against pretty women - but there are far too many of them in Hollywood productions. It's hard to tell them apart, since they all have perfect teeth, and obviously go the same stylists and makeup artists.

But if you watch a British or Scandinavian production, you'll discover that they cast real people; crooked teeth, imperfect noses ... that's not to say that they aren't attractive - many of them are. But more important to the success of a show or a movie: they're

memorable

.

Janine didn't agree with us.

Some nights, I was glad that she didn't.

At one performance in Toronto, Janine invited a young woman up on stage. She was stunning. For the sheer beauty of her face, this girl surpassed even Janine herself.

- "What's your name?" asked my partner.

- "Gina."

- "Look at you. Wow! You should be a model."

- "Too short." said Gina. She was only about 5'2".

- "I hear that." said Janine, who was barely 5 feet tall.

It was, in my opinion, one of my greatest performances, mostly because I didn't flub any of my lines, or my exchanges with Janine. That I managed to do that, and still check out Gina was a major accomplishment.

Gina was almost flat-chested, but she was braless. Her nipples were very much in evidence, as they seemed to be trying to escape from under her form-fitting dress.

Whatever Gina lacked up front, she more than made up for in the back. Her ass was easily twice the size one might have expected, given her height and frame. I would never have considered myself an ass-man, but if Gina had knocked on my door, trying to convert me, I would certainly have listened to her pitch.

The routine went well, and I was sorry to see Gina leave the stage (though I was very happy to watch her go).

I was very pleasantly surprised to find Gina waiting, with a small group of others, after the show. She was very patient, waiting until I'd finished signing a couple of autographs, fending off questions about how the 'tricks' were done, and then expressing my regrets to another young lady, who wanted a more personal interview - something involving a DNA sample. Normally, I wouldn't have turned her away. But Gina was waiting.

- "You really won't tell how you do it, will you?"

I smiled, and shook my head. "You know, though ... if you were a spy, and I was in possession of state secrets ... I'd be in serious danger of committing treason."

- "What if I bought you a late dinner, and plied you with drinks?" she asked.

- "You're welcome to try." I said.

You might be amazed at my sang-froid - my self control. Mind reading, remember? Gina was broadcasting on all frequencies that she wanted me, secrets or no.

We took a taxi from the little theatre where we'd performed. Gina turned to me.

- "How hungry are you?"

- "I ate before the show."

- "So did I. Want to get straight to the drinks? At my place?"

They say 'Lucky at cards, unlucky at love'.

They

couldn't be more wrong. Fine: if you want to nitpick, this wasn't about love.

Gina re-directed our cab driver, and took me up to her apartment. She poured us both a drink, but I don't remember if I ever got to taste mine, because she very quickly steered me to her couch.

Janine had trained me extensively in the fine art of cunnilingus, but she'd never prepared me for an aggressive woman who would - literally - sit on my face.

I thought, for a moment, that I was in danger. But Gina had a very pretty pussy, and she was kind enough to lift her hips every now and again, so that I could take a deep breath. Once she had come, and spread her free-flowing juices all over my face, Gina was more than willing to turn around, kneeling on her couch, and presenting me with that fabulous backside.

I'm proud to say that I fucked her twice, because after coming the first time, I somehow stayed rock hard, and just kept on thrusting into her from behind. Gina was happy to continue.

There was no question in my mind - this was worth doing more than once. But Gina politely declined to give me her number.

- "I'm sorry, Peter." she said. "This was fun - you've got a great tongue. But ... people to see, people to do, you know?"

I was just a notch in her belt. Another minor celebrity for her scrapbook? If that was the case ... well, I was okay with that.

***

After a show in Hamilton, there was another girl waiting among the magic nerds and the selfie crew. I noticed her almost right away. For one thing, she had really incredible eyes: dark brown, and very large.

For another, she was trying to read my mind.

I felt her touch, like the brush of a couple of loose hairs across my eyebrows. I reacted instantly, throwing up a wall, with broken glass embedded in the top, bristling with barbed wire. She took a step back, and immediately stopped.

She didn't leave, though. Instead, she waited until I'd dealt with all of the other people seeking my attention. Janine had finished with her fans and suitors. She took a look at the brown-eyed girl, and gave me a nod of approval.

Finally, I was alone with this girl.

- "I'm very sorry." she said. "I shouldn't have done that."