Having sex with a witch is better than having sex with a stripper, a call girl, your mother, or your mother-in-law.
"My place?"
He looked at her as if he was imagining what he thought he heard her say.
"Yes," she said running a slow tongue across her lips.
She gave him a sexy look that told him that he heard her correctly. Just to make sure that he didn't misunderstand her intentions, he asked the obvious question.
"For sex?"
He looked at her as if she was his dream woman or his worst nightmare. He had no idea which.
"Yes," she said.
Rolling the dice, taking the gamble, going all in, and going for broke, if she was going to kill him, what better way to die than to die in her arms while having sex with her?
"Wow," he involuntarily blurted as if he was a teenager getting laid for the first time. Actually, never having had sex with a witch before and not knowing what to expect, his mind was a myriad of sexual positions and possibilities.
"You do have somewhere to take me where you live and where we can have sex, don't you?" She looked at him and smiled her sexy grin. "You don't actually live in your car, do you?"
"Yes, no, of course, but what about your cat? We shouldn't leave him there. Should we go back to collect him?"
He turned to look at the cat that was no longer sitting on her car hood as if it was a life sized, feline, hood ornament.
"My cat? That's so nice of you worry about my pet but he's already here," she said turning to her cat sitting in the backseat. "Come to Mommy, Satan," she said. The cat jumped from the backseat to sit in her lap while staring at Robert with its big, yellow eyes.
Robert looked at the cat while wondering how in the Hell he could get in a car that had its doors and windows closed.
"Meow!"
More of a dog lover than a cat lover, feeling frightened by the cat, Robert remained silent while staring at her. Now figuring that she was a witch, a real witch, he didn't know what to do. Yet, she couldn't be a witch. How could she be a witch? There's no such thing as witches, is there?
Not that he's ever seen a witch before but he's never seen a witch who looks like her. It was Shakespeare who set the stage that all witches are evil and ugly when he wrote about the three witches in Macbeth. Witches are supposed to be ugly and scary like the Witch of the East in the Wizard of Oz. Yet, if all witches looked like Flora Radisson, he wouldn't be afraid of witches. Yet, then again, perhaps not all witches are bad.
There's the good and the beautiful witch who appeared in the Wizard of Oz, the Witch of the North. Hermione Granger of Harry Potter is a good witch. John Updike's novel, the Witches of Eastwick, all had good Rhode Island witches played in the movie by Cher, Susan Sarandon, and Michele Pfeiffer. In Homer's, The Odyssey, his witch, Circe, was a good witch albeit getting a bad rap for turning men into what they truly already are, pigs.
"You mentioned something about a promise and a curse," he said feeling nervously anxious to know what she meant.
"Yes, that bloody, forsaken curse. Ugh, that's going to haunt me for the rest of my days on Earth. Haven't you ever said something that you regretted when you were angry?" She looked at him as if she already knew all the answers to her questions and obviously she did. "Why do you ask about the promise and the curse?"
"Being that today is the fateful day of a curse that was made upon my family three hundred and twenty-one years ago, you're freaking me out, especially with your black cat suddenly appearing from out of nowhere," he said wanting to but not daring to pet the cat.
"Don't worry about the curse. The curse is practically over," she said waving a disinterested hand. "Besides, if you take the meaning figuratively instead of literally, the curse states that you will fall for me. You're the lawyer, counselor. Figure it out. You tell me. What does falling for me actually mean?"
"Sorry, I'm not following you," he said now more concerned with Satan staring at him than her staring at him.
"Falling for me could have a double meaning. It could mean you falling dead at my hands or it could mean you falling in love with me," she said cackling again.
If there was one thing that he didn't like about her, it was that damn cackle. How someone so beautiful could laugh so ugly was beyond his understanding of women, especially witches.
"Not even knowing how to respond to that, I don't even know your name and you're scaring me," said Robert. "I haven't even introduced myself."
Robert gave her a half smile along with a limp wristed handshake that she refused to accept.
"I apologize for scaring you. That wasn't my intention and there's no need for introductions Robert. I already know who you are. You're family's reputation precedes you," she said looking down at his offered hand and rejecting it with an upward lift of her nose.
Having met all kinds of people in court, he's never met anyone like her.
"Sorry, I don't understand," he said.
He looked at her in the way that he looked at a client to see if he was telling him the truth or lying.
"Sure you do. You mentioned it yourself about the curse. My name is Flora Radisson, the direct descendant of the witch Flora Radisson and you are Robert Hall, the direct descendant of Judge Robert Hall," she said as if purring with her cat. "Am I right?"
"Oh my God. Indeed you are the wicked witch who's going to—"
Panic attacked his being as if she was a tried and convicted murderess who had just escaped from prison and was out to get him.
"Yes, I'm going to make you fall for me," she said cackling again. "I'm not going to hurt you Robert, trust me, that is, unless you're into that sort of thing where you want me to whip you and discipline you while you're tied to your bed," she said with a dirty laugh. "As far as I'm concerned the curse is dead only—"
Dead? He didn't hear the curse is dead part. He only focused on the word dead.
"Only what?"
He stared at her looking at him before turning his attention back to the road.
"To break the curse, you must make love to me," she said leaning in her passenger seat to whisper in his ear while playing with his hair.
Make love to a witch? How does a mortal man, a normal man, albeit a very horny man, make love to a witch? All he could think of is her flying him around the world on a broomstick while making love at the pointy end of the broom handle.
"Make love to you? Seriously?"
