Subsequent chapters are currently in progress. All characters are 18 years of age or older. This is entirely a work of fiction; any similarities between any persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional.
*****
A knock at the front door told me Allie had arrived for our scheduled weekly study session. I peered through the one-way stained glass panel next to the door. She was a vision in her white tank top and jean shorts. The sun danced radiantly on her gorgeous hair, which tumbled in loose curls around her shoulders. Her clothes hugged her curvy, well-toned frame. Her expression was soft and friendly, as always, and her eyes were large and kind. Allie was the type of person who smiled often and laughed easily. I adored her, and she was my precise opposite.
I guess you could say I was a melancholy rocker. I had long-ish, straight, dark hair and a closely shorn goatee. I lifted weights rigorously to try to build some decent muscles, and had succeeded for the most part, but I was still tall and sinewy. People said I had a deep voice. I always wore black, my wallet had a chain, and I liked to wear wrist bands. Sometimes, I even wore black nail polish. Don't judge me . . .
Allie was bouncy where I was sulky. She was bright, optimistic, and always saw the best in people. I was brooding, sometimes conniving, and knew the world was mostly bad. Allie thought that everyone was basically trying to do what was right, they just had different ideas of what that was. I knew she was naïve, though. In reality, everyone thinks their way is the right way, and that their morals are the right ones. People constantly try to force their own ideas on everyone else, and no one ever agrees about what is "morally right." So, humanity wars with itself. Because of this, I've always known that morals are relative.
Spellcrafting was my favorite hobby. I had been deeply interested in magick for a long time, and had read books on several magickal and occult subjects. I had been performing my own rituals for a few years, and was becoming rather effective with them. I could find lost items for myself or others. I could get a job that I wanted. In fact, I had used magick to land my current job, for which I was grossly under qualified. I could curse someone and they'd have a rotten day - and I mean a
really
rotten day. I cursed frat-boy extraordinaire Jimmy Remmington once for teasing me in the locker room. He missed the bus, spilled his lunch down his shirt, walked out of the bathroom with the toilet seat cover stuck in the back of his pants, fell out of his chair in Philosophy class (after which the professor dismissed him for causing a raucous), and he farted while talking to the girl he has been trying to date for the better part of the semester. That's just what I saw happen on campus - who knows what happened after he got home.
Most excitingly, I could even impression people by now. Impressions were only ideas - subliminal suggestions, if you will - and they could only go so far. Still, I found that on some people they could be rather effective. I had practiced first on a girl in my Calculus class whom I didn't really like. I thought she would be a good test subject because she really detested me. (She thought I was creepy. Go figure.) I performed a ritual to make her fall in love with me. The next day, I caught her staring dreamily at me in class, then quickly looking away with a confused expression on her face. Since then, I had refined my powers of persuasion to work outside the confines of an actual ritual. If someone was talking to me, for example, and I wanted them to go away, sometimes I could look into their eyes and make them suddenly realize they wanted to do something else. I could also impress specific thoughts and ideas onto people. For this, I had to be touching them. For example, if I wanted my best friend Brody to give me his chocolate pudding, and he really didn't want to, I could focus, touch his arm, say, "
Give me your pudding,"
and he would suddenly change his mind. But, now, it was time to graduate from pudding thief to something a bit more ambitious - and satisfying.
Allie was my new obsession. She was perfect, and probably out of my league, if you believe in that sort of thing. The bigger problem was she was extremely conservative. She would be a tough nut to crack. I, however, wanted her.
Allie's second knock interrupted my thoughts. I opened the door.
Hi, Darren!" she said, smiling warmly. She had her school backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Hi, Allie." I said, stepping to the side. "Come on in." We had been studying together for most of the semester, and she still didn't suspect that I had ulterior motives. Given her gullibility, it's a good thing she was in my hands and not someone else's.
I led Allie upstairs to my room, which was the remodeled attic. We took our seats at my desk and hit the books. After about an hour of studying, she sat back and stretched.
You know," I said, still working on a problem, "I think I need my other binder. Would you mind getting it for me?"
Of course," she replied graciously.
"It's in my closet," I motioned behind me and across the room. She stood and went to the closet door. I watched as she moved across the room. My eyes scanned her slender waist, voluptuous rear and muscular thighs. She had no idea what I was going to do to that body; I relished the thought. I rose from my chair silently.
She opened the closet and skimmed the contents with her eyes. "Where in the closet?"
I stepped up behind her and inhaled the scent of her hair, gathering my focus. She began to turn around. I placed my fingertips lightly on the curve of her waist, just below her ribs, and said softly, "
Don't turn."
She stopped and stood still. My heart jumped. It was working . . .
"
Keep still."
I repeated. I waited, and she didn't move. I gently moved her hair to the side with my other hand. My eyes traveled over the smooth, supple skin of her neck. For so long I had wanted to feel her skin under my lips. I leaned in, ready to finally taste her.
"What is it? Is there a bug on me?" Allie asked. My stomach lurched.
"Uh . . . yeah. Don't freak out . . ."
Allie stiffened and closer her eyes tight, but didn't move. "Don't kill it, okay? Just get it off please . . . " she replied urgently.
Okay," I said, "it's gone."
Allie turned around to face me, her hand flying up to her hair. "Was it in my hair? I didn't feel you get it."
Yeah, it was in your hair."
"Where is it now?" she looked down at my hands, searching for the tiny perpetrator.
"I don't know," I said, stepping back and looking down. "On the carpet somewhere."
"Oh," she looked at the carpet, then back up at me and smiled. "Well, as long as he's not on me anymore. Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said as I thought to myself,
Operation: Allie; phase one: crash and burn
.
___
I didn't waste the 6 days between that utter disaster and my next study session with Allie. I performed extensive rituals every night of the week following my failure. I focused on making her feel relaxed in my presence, receptive to my suggestions, and making her body sensitive to my touch. Allie was naïve anyway, and she trusted me. But, I was convinced that reinforcing those ideas would make her more receptive to me next time.
I also decided that I needed a back-up plan. I didn't like the idea of using demonic or occult objects on her. But, I decided I might need a little help amplifying my power. After visiting many websites and calling several reputable shops, I finally found a viable object of power. It was a dark purple crystal unlike any I had ever seen or held. It radiated its own power, which was almost tangible. A permanent, dark, shadowy lining hung around the crystal, visible only upon careful inspection. It was unnaturally warm to the touch and had a deep black and green center. As I held it, I could feel the crystal's power.
Allie came over at her scheduled time, and I led her to my room as usual. She set her backpack on my desk and began pulling out her study materials.
Did you understand everything the professor said about quantum numbers?" she chattered as she pulled out her textbook, then her binder and notes. "I'm pretty sure I understand it, I just need to do a few problems to practice," she said, her eyes intent on the inside of her backpack as she dug around for her pencil.
