Just A Little Magic Ch 16

I knocked on the door. I'd never been so nervous in my entire life. It felt like I was rolling the dice for... my entire life.

She could see me through the peephole, if she wanted to. She had to know it was me. She hadn't sent a message telling me

not

to come, but she could always have changed her mind at the last minute. I'd specifically given her that option.

Get a grip, Pete, I told myself. She wouldn't do that. Any second now, she'll open the door...

And then she did. I wasn't prepared. There she was, in the flesh. I just stood and gaped at her. Sophie just looked so... lovely. She looked exactly as I expected her to, and I

still

wasn't ready.

"

Hey

." she said, softly.

"Hey." I got out. One-syllable words - I could manage those.

She surprised me by stepping forward, and wrapping her arms around me. She rested her head on my shoulder for a moment.

"I'm so glad you're here." she said.

Then she stepped back.

"You didn't bring an overnight bag?"

"Umm, no. I got a motel room." I didn't want to appear presumptuous. In fact, I hadn't even been 100% sure that she was going to open the door.

"That was a waste. You know you can stay here."

"Oh. Thanks."

"After all, we have a lot to talk about, don't you think?" She held the door open a little wider. "You want to come in?"

I followed her inside. Her modest apartment looked the same - and yet everything was different. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

"Have a seat." she said. "Can I offer you a beer?"

"Yes, please."

"I have a bottle of Cabernet Franc open, too, if you prefer."

"Beer is good."

She poured me a beer, filled her own glass, and brought the drinks over the coffee table, while I concentrated on breathing. I'd planned a hundred things to say to her. I'd rehearsed them in my mind for weeks, and then re-hashed them all on the drive to Montreal.

Sophie presented me with a nice imported beer (Ukrainian), and then surprised me again, by sitting down next to me on the couch.

There it was - the opening I needed. All I had to do was tell her how sorry I was, how desperately guilty I felt for everything that had happened... for all that I'd done.

"I'll start." she said. "If you don't mind."

"Oh. I mean, no - that's fine."

Sophie sat close enough that she could reach over and take my hand between both of hers. She looked me in the eye - which meant that I looked at

her

eyes. Were they a little red? Had she been crying?

"Listen to me - carefully." she said. "I don't want you to tell me that you're sorry, or that you feel responsible for everything..."

Just like that, the carefully constructed Jenga tower of my prepared speech collapsed in spectacular ruin.

"You... don't?"

She shook her head. "We spent months together, on that... Apology Tour - for lack of a better expression. You told me that you were sorry, Pete:

almost

every day

. Several times a day. I got it: you were feeling guilty. You blamed yourself for everything."

I believe that I've gone on at length about how lovely Sophie is: her long brown hair, and grey-blue eyes, her high, arched eyebrows... her nose, her lips, and those fantastic dimples that give her face so much character.

She wasn't smiling. But what I saw in her face at that moment was something that I wasn't sure I deserved: compassion.

"I heard you." she said. "I understood then, and I understand even better now. You were punishing yourself."

That was true. But had I punished myself enough? Would I ever be able to look myself in the mirror again?

"I'm going to ask you something very important, Pete."

"I've forgiven you. Can you forgive yourself?"

I can't tell you why, but I sat there mute - completely bereft of the power of speech. It wasn't that I didn't know what to say - I just couldn't think at all.

Don't ask me how it happened, but my eyes started to tear up. I wasn't even aware of it until a teardrop ran down my cheek.

"Oh, Sweetie -" Sophie shifted closer, and her arm went around me. She kissed my lips, then my cheek... and she drank my tear.

No, I didn't completely break down. I did hold on to her - it just felt so damned good, especially after so long.

We sat together, on her couch, our arms around each other. She was comforting me. I was just holding on.

* * * * *

"Let's go get something to eat." she said. "Sorry - I wasn't in the mood to cook."

"You didn't have to."

"To be honest, I wasn't sure that you were going to show up."

"What?" I said. "Of course I was."

"I don't know. I was afraid that you'd be overcome by guilt, or something. Obviously, I'm really glad that you

did

make it."

"I had to come."

"Yes, you did." she said. "You okay with Shawarmas?"

"Sure." Truth be told, it was an excellent choice.

We stood on the sidewalk, and ate them. They were so good, I wished that I'd ordered two right off the bat.

"You want another?" said Sophie, with a grin.

"Are you reading

my

mind, now?" I asked. Then I immediately felt guilty again, for all of the times I'd read

her

mind. I hadn't done it to take advantage of her, really... had I? I just wanted her to like me, and...

And I was a total dirtbag.

"Nah." she said. "I just saw you looking back at the shop with... what is that expression - longing? Whatever it is - I want another one, too."

We carried our second shawarmas back to Sophie's apartment. She took my hand as we walked. My eyes began to tear up again.

Sophie couldn't look at me either.

"I love you, Pete." she said.

She spoke so softly, I barely heard her. But I wasn't about to ask her to repeat it. All I could do was squeeze her hand more tightly.

Back in her apartment, Sophie unwrapped our shawarmas, and put them on plates. She got me another beer, and poured herself another glass of wine.

She

had

been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her nose was running. It was red, too. She sniffled, and wiped.

"I still love you." she said. "You're still my man. All you have to do is forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can be the man you deserve, Sophie." I said. My thoughts were a little clearer. "Some days, when I look in the mirror... I see Lillian's accomplice, the seducer of women. On a good day, I see Janine's dupe - the fool."

"No." she said. "

You

don't understand." Then she shook her head. "Eat your food. I'm going to take a shower."

"But you haven't..."

"I'm taking a shower." she repeated. "Then we'll talk."

Fair enough. I ate, and drank my beer. She'd said that she still loved me. That was wonderful. But why didn't I

feel

wonderful?

Sophie had called me 'her man'. She'd said 'I love you'. And all I had to do was forgive myself? What was so difficult about that?

I didn't have a ready answer. I just knew that... it wasn't so simple. I had built up Ashley's expectations, and now I was letting her down. Breanna had lost two boyfriends in a row. The only bright spot in that fiasco was that I hadn't gotten her pregnant.

Tamara's marriage had been smashed. Then I'd built her hopes up, only to stand revealed as a deceiver. I'd done something similar to Irene, in Cyprus.

Maybe Ri and Sandra didn't hate me as much. I wasn't going to lose any sleep over what Kavia thought of me, either. But Vicky?

Mirella had been angry enough to kick me in the balls. And how did Esther feel? I'd proposed marriage, and left her miles from the altar.

And what had I done to Michelle? Or worse, to Danielle?

No - Danielle was different. I'd been absolutely loyal to her. It was Janine who'd deliberately torpedoed our relationship. And I'd let her do it.

Sophie came out of the bathroom, wearing one of her few extravagances: a thick, fluffy, soft bathrobe.

"How's your beer?" she asked.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I joked.

"If it'll help." she said. She wasn't joking.

Sophie poured herself some more wine, and got me a fresh beer. Then she came back to sit beside me on the couch.

She took a deep breath, and then turned to face me.

"Do you remember our first date?" she said.

Of course I did. What was she suggesting?

"I remember all of it."

"What was your favourite part?"

I didn't understand this line of questioning. I felt like the prime suspect, being interviewed by the police; the questions seemed innocent enough, but I was wary of the hidden trap.

"I loved all of it. The way the time flew by as we had Dim Sum, our walk in the Park. Then sitting by the pond... I was amazed by how great I felt when you held my hand. We didn't have to say a word."

"But then we went for a drink... and the conversation just flowed again. It was incredible."

"I felt the same way." she said. "I didn't want the day to end."

"It was the same for me."

"So... was that the spell working on you?" said Sophie.

"What? No - that was

before

I knew you were on the list." Sophie knew that. Why was she asking me this?

"Are you sure? You had spells to make you perpetually horny, to make you want 'the thrill of the chase'... wasn't I just your next conquest?"

Hey - I recognized the use of reverse psychology. But there's a reason why people keep using it: sometimes, it works.

"No. That day meant everything. You have no idea how important it was to me."

"I think that I do, Pete. Because it meant just as much to me."

She reached out to touch my hand, ever so gently. She was punching me in the gut with her words, but the touch of her fingers was like the smoothest velvet.

"Do you remember looking after me when I was sick?" she said.

"Of course. You did the same for me."

"You did it first." she said. "And you did it

despite

the spells on you."

"I didn't... it was nothing special..."

"

You

weren't on the receiving end. I heard you say that you loved me, too. And then I went back to work, only to find that you'd straightened out my asshole of a boss. You read my mind to find about him, didn't you? Because you knew that something was bothering me."

"Umm... yeah." There was no point denying it.

"Pete -

none

of that was because of the spells that Lillian and Janine put on you. You treated me like a Princess, and then like I was made out of glass, because you genuinely cared for me. That was all

you

."

She was looking at me carefully, to see how I would respond to her words.

"I

do

love you, Sophie. I have since the day we met."

"But now you don't think you deserve me. You don't feel worthy - isn't that right?"

"I..." Was that my problem? Was I feeling

that

guilty?

"Did you cheat on me? Before the list?" she demanded.

"No."

"Sammy says that you turned Janine down. While you were on tour."

"I... I did."

"But you were fully prepared to get her pregnant, at the end of your 'Year of Decision.'"

"Yes."

"Can't you see all those spells at work, Pete?" said Sophie. "Ashley said that her friend practically offered herself to you on a platter."

"I... I didn't want to."

"How many women have you been with since Atlanta - when you

didn't

impregnate Breanna?"

None. She knew the answer. I had the feeling that Sophie knew the answers to all of the questions she was asking. This wasn't an interrogation - it was an exposition. This was all for my benefit.

I felt the tears welling up again. Why would she want me? I was so stupid - so damaged.

"Aunt Anna said that you would feel this way." said Sophie. "So did Emily. Do you remember?"

Yes. They'd warned me that the removal of the spells might leave me feeling anxious, uncertain or disconnected. But that wasn't it - I was feeling... guilty.

"Okay." said Sophie. "I didn't necessarily want to do this now, but... time for the heavy artillery." She pulled out her laptop.

"Anna and Emily re-routed the email and texts from your old address to this new one."

"Look."

There it was, in black and white.

Esther (using her new Smartphone), letting me know how happy she, Grandma and Sunny were in their new home.

Sandra, telling me that she would be in New York in a few months' time - and wondering if I was available to meet her.

Elodie and Christiane - they'd decided not to have a child (or children). Instead, they were going to investigate opportunities to adopt. They also insisted that I come stay with them the next time I came to Belgium - or anywhere close.

Vicky - asking if I was okay.

Mirella.

I was angry - I'm still angry, I think. But that's because I wish so much that what we had had been real. I don't blame you, Peter - I understand better, now. I will always regret that I didn't meet you before we had those spells put on us.

That one almost made me smile. Before the spells were on me? I would have been 17 years old.

Ashley.

I get it that you were acting under a sort of compulsion. But I knew from the very beginning that you liked me. You could have just... let's be honest. You could've just fucked me - and I would have been happy. Sorry to be... so blunt.

But you were nice to me. You made me feel special. I'm not going to forget that.

Thank you.

Sophie waited patiently as I went back and read them all again.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better."

"I should hope so."

"But you must've noticed that Tamara and Irene didn't send anything." I said.

"They may never forgive you." said Sophie. "And you have to accept that. But you should face the facts, too: you didn't break up their relationships - Lillian did that."

"I should have known. I heard their stories, and I couldn't even put 2 and 2 together."

"The same way you did when Janine scared Michelle away? Or when she lied to Danielle to break the two of you up?"

Ouch. That was harsh.

"You were under their spell, Pete." said Sophie. "It's actually incredible that you tried to tell me. You were resisting all along. But you couldn't fight them off - not until you saw that full moon."

"You were a prisoner. You finally escaped - but you're still blaming yourself for not having escaped sooner."

They say that people have different learning styles. Some people are visual learners; I forget the others - auditory? Kinesthetic? It's all a crock of shit, anyway. But there's no question that a good story usually works for most of us. Or an image.

Sophie's comparison of me to a prisoner... it just suddenly worked for me. I pictured myself as the guy from the Shawshank Redemption, crawling out the end of that sewage pipe, and finally standing up, in the pouring rain...

Okay. I hadn't had to crawl through a river of shit. Instead, I'd been having sex with multiple women all over the world... not quite the same type of ordeal.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Sophie.

"The Shawshank Redemption."

Her face creased up as she smiled, with her lips tightly pressed together. There were all of those wonderful dimples, in all of their glory.

"That's a great image." she said.

"

You

made me think of it."

"Yay for me." She leaned closer, and kissed me - full on the lips.

Sophie is a wonderful kisser. The pressure of her lips on mine was just right. When I felt the tip of her tongue inside my mouth, my knees went weak.

Did I deserve this? Luckily, Sophie didn't give me time to think about it.

She continued to kiss me, probing even more deeply with her tongue, chasing mine. Her hand came up, to stroke my cheek, but she soon reached behind my head, to pull me closer.

Then she moved - quickly, but smoothly - to turn and climb into my lap, to straddle me, with a leg on either side of mine. Her robe came adrift, so that it now gaped open a bit. She did nothing to fix it. Instead, Sophie kissed me again.

I was much taller than she was, but our positions were now reversed - she was higher, and my head was tilted back. She had her hands on my face, holding me in place as she kissed me more forcefully, more passionately.

She moved one hand, briefly. She reached down, and took hold of

my

hand - which she immediately raised between our bodies. Then she pulled it towards her.

My fingers encountered bare skin, warm and smooth. I didn't need a road map. I raised my hand a few inches, and brushed the underside of her breast. Sophie groaned into my mouth.

There was absolutely no way I could resist the magical appeal of her chest. I was soon fondling her breast, running my thumb across her nipple.

Sophie moaned again, and then seemed to come to a decision. She released my face, and thrust both of her hands down, between us. She found the top of my jeans, and immediately unfastened them. Then she yanked my zipper down.

In one swift move (which might have made her yoga teacher proud), Sophie arched her back, and then flexed her hips, sliding backwards, and off my lap. Just like that, she was on her knees in front of me, tugging at my pants.

I was a little surprised by her aggressiveness, but that didn't stop me from raising my ass off her couch, so that she could pull my pants and underwear down.

My cock sprang free, slapping loudly against my lower belly.

Sophie moaned. But she didn't hesitate. She immediately grabbed my erection, and lowered her head onto it. It was my turn to gasp as I felt her hot, wet mouth surround the head of my cock. This wasn't foreplay; it was simply the swift application of lubrication.

She attacked my rod - there was no other way to describe it. She slobbered over it, coating its length with saliva - and then she stood up, and clambered back onto my lap.

"Sophie - wait -"

Normally, Sophie and I spent considerable time on foreplay - I couldn't remember the last time we'd had intercourse without me going down on her first. But she was impatient, and determined, so she completely ignored my weak protests.

She took hold of my dick, nestled the head between her lower lips, and sank down upon it.

"Aahhh..." she moaned.

Reflex took over - I read her mind.

Is it such a bad thing, to know what your lover really wants? I would gladly have eaten Sophie's pussy; hell, I would've rimmed her asshole, if that was what she truly desired. But she was absolutely fixated on having me inside her.

She didn't want to leave me time for second thoughts.

Sophie fucked me, on her couch. She used her strong legs to propel herself up and down, masturbating my cock with her hot, wet pussy.

I could have done a dozen different things to give her more sexual pleasure, to heighten the sensations for her. But that wasn't what she was interested in. Sophie wanted only to be joined, to be as close as we could possibly be.

I came far too soon - which was exactly what she wanted.

* * * * *

She took me the shower, where she insisted on washing me all over, and then drying me off. Then she led me to her bed, where she nestled into my arms, and held me close.

Have you ever been so tired that you couldn't sleep? I felt physically and mentally exhausted, and yet I was wide awake.

Sophie had cast some magic of her own: she'd partially dispelled my self-imposed cloud of guilt and gloom. I wasn't entirely free of it, but every time I visualized that scene from the movie, I felt better. Maybe I wasn't entirely innocent - but I didn't deserve to be imprisoned for life, either.

Sophie was willing to forgive me, and she was a hell of a lot smarter than I was - intellectually

and

emotionally.

She wasn't sleeping, either. She was watching me carefully, but giving me a chance to digest what she said - and done - earlier.

"

You're magnificent

." I whispered.

"

I'm pretty fond of you, too - in case you haven't noticed

."

"You're far too good for me."

"I'm the lucky one, Pete. You make me happy. Happiest of all when we're together, of course, but I can feel better just by thinking of you - and it's even easier when I get one of your letters."