"Amorous Goods, Season 04" Author Challenge
and
Halloween Story Contest 2023
entry.
I missed adding an entry to last year's edition of AG and am glad to be back this year. It's an interesting store we're building here, and I hope you have engaging visits to its various nooks and crannies with their fascinating array of sexy and sometimes scary supernatural items.
For this particular story, I'll warn that there is a long build up to the sex, call it 7,000 words give or take. I hope you'll enjoy it when it arrives, and just as importantly, that you enjoy the story that leads to and surrounds it.
Amorous Goods: Scar Tissue
What does it take to heal a wounded spirit?
A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to his only known relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.
CHAPTER ONE
It was Friday afternoon and the end of the week for Amorous Goods, which for now at least, wasn't open on the weekends. That made Dylan LeMay very happy as he locked the shop's door and flipped the OPEN sign over to CLOSED. The old-fashioned touch always gave him an internal chuckle, but it did suit Amorous Goods to a T. As he walked back across the shop floor, he noticed dust on some of the display cases. Damn, it just never ended, did it? When he'd been a Navy Quartermaster, tending stores like this had been the part of the job he'd liked least, even though he'd been as good at that as at the more challenging elements of his profession. Unfortunately, they had to keep the retail parts of Amorous Goods going in order to support the more interesting, the more thrilling aspects of this bizarre adventure he and his cousin Vikki Friday had been drawn into.
"Hey, Cuz," said a female voice from behind the sales counter.
Looking over, Dylan saw Vikki walking away from the door that led down to the basement where she did her specialized work, cataloguing the extensive holdings she'd inherited from her distant great-uncle, Ludwig Freitag. Freitag hadn't been his uncle because Dylan was Vikki's cousin by marriage on her mother's side, while the Freitags were an old-country family branch on her father's side. Blood ties aside, Dylan and Vikki had been among a generation of kids that had grown up summering together, while the very existence of old Ludwig had come as a complete surprise to both of them when he'd died, and Vikki had been the only blood relative they could find. Tragically, her own parents had died together in a car crash some seven years back.
"Well, speak of the Devil," he said back to her.
Both of the young people froze and shot anxious glances left and right.
"Oops, sorry," the tall, tough Navy vet whispered. "I meant I was just thinking about you."
While the actual existence of Satan was still in doubt, they'd seen enough evidence of supernatural evil to worry about inadvertently inviting any into their lives. The collection of items that Vikki's "Uncle" Ludwig had gathered over the years, and the old bordello that he had bought to store them in, spoke primarily of an oversexed old pervert. But through incredible experience, Dylan and Vikki had come to learn that a thick layer of magic overshadowed it all. And some of that magic was definitely of the black sort.
"Shit," grumbled Dylan as he shook his head in disgust. Then both he and Vikki had to laugh at their own skittishness.
"So," said the young archivist. "Did you sell anything today?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," replied the ex-sailor. "Did you find anything safe downstairs that we can put on the shelves in its place?"
"You know, I have to admit, the more I study the collection, the more I feel like we shouldn't be selling anything. This whole place should be a museum and research facility. I mean, my God, Dylan, actual magic!"
"Actual magic that is going to cause a lot of trouble for some unsuspecting people if we're not able to recover the things from Morgana's list. And for that we need the money that comes from selling the stuff you and she say isn't dangerous."
Morgana, of course, was Morgana Delacroix. The sexy, sultry, middle-aged vixen who'd shown up one day and warned them that many of the items they'd been selling at fire-sale prices as they worked to liquidate Amorous Goods, were incredibly dangerous. Dangerous in ways they couldn't believe at first. But they believed now. Believed enough to worry about bringing up the name of the Devil.
"Besides," added Dylan, "if we went public with what we've seen, the doctors would lock us in padded rooms, or the torch-wielding villagers would burn us out."
Vikki knew he was right and clenched her fists in frustration that she hadn't been able to come up with a way to turn Amorous Goods into a legitimate, albeit fantastical field of study.
CHAPTER TWO
When the good-looking guy with the wavy black hair finally asked if she'd like to dance, Lina Gutierrez almost said, 'Of course!' out loud. She'd wanted to dance with this guy the previous Friday when she'd first seen him at
Henrietta's
. However, even though they'd swapped some pretty intense looks and smiles, he'd never asked. The fact that a small blonde cutie had been hanging on his arm all night appeared to have been the reason. Tonight, however, there was no blonde.
"Sure," she said, taking his proffered hand and rising.
Lina's best friend, Tory, was seated behind the guy and waggled her eyebrows while staring at his butt, clearly indicating her approval. Typical Tory. She was gay, but it didn't stop her from weighing in on her straight friends' potential partners.
The crowd around the dance floor was pretty thick and the guy took the lead. Lina put him at 6 feet and maybe 180 pounds, so he had the size needed to break through. But she also noted and appreciated that he wasn't charging through like a bull, nor was he dragging her behind. He kept hold of her hand, but his grip was light, just enough to make sure they didn't get separated.
As they walked to the dance floor, Lina was already tabulating points. On a conscious level she knew it was unfair to be so judgemental right off the bat. Unfortunately, her personal experience had taught her that there were lots of creeps out there who were good at hiding their creepiness until it was too late, and she'd sacrificed something. Maybe just a kiss but often much more. But each was still a sacrifice, a loss that left a little scar tissue and made her keep her barriers up that much longer the next time. So she paid close attention at those times when the man would be acting unconsciously and thus more likely to expose his true nature. Like whether he bullied his way through crowds.
Tory often joked that Lina and their other straight girl friends would be a lot happier and more relaxed if they joined her in Sapphic-love and didn't have to keep protecting themselves against "the brutes". But she also really hurt for Lina when some jerk didn't reveal his controlling nature or philandering ways until Lina was weeks or even months into building a relationship.
When they found a space on the floor, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome turned to face her and hit her with a bright smile and beautiful deep blue eyes. He bent forward and leaned in until his mouth was close to her ear. But not too close, she thought appreciatively.
"It was a bit confused at the table," he said. "You did say your name was Lina, right?" His eyes were sparkling with good humour as he pulled back, and she automatically sensed he was laughing at himself by admitting a potential faux pas.
Lina smiled back at him and said, "Yes. And you're Craig?" She actually wasn't sure, so she was glad he'd brought it up instead of leaving her floundering around, trying to avoid saying the wrong name.
"Almost. It's Greg," he said with a little laugh. Leaning back in, he said, "I'm actually pretty bad with names. My grandpa told me to try and use a person's name as soon as I could to help me remember it. So, is Lina your full name or is it short for something?"
"Your grandpa sounds like a clever guy, Greg. My full name is Angelina, but it's been Lina all my life."
"Well, Lina, may I have this dance?"
"My pleasure, Greg." They both smiled at their new private joke.
He stepped back enough to create some room for dancing, and reminded Lina why, beyond the good looks, she'd wanted him to ask her to dance last week - Whiteboy could move. Beyoncé's "Dance For You" came on and he dipped a hip right into the groove.
Lina wasn't about to go all out Queen Bey on their first dance, but she did put a little shimmy in her milkshake. They were moving so well together that they were on their third straight song before either of them knew it. He escorted her back to her table and asked if they might dance some more later. She said yes and after a decent interval he returned and took her back out on the floor. Returning from this second twirl she introduced him to Tory, Barb, and the other girls in their group and found out his last name was Bartak. After the fourth dance set, she asked him to stay and sit with them since two of her friends had already introduced other males to their girls' night out. He was charming and engaging, but didn't push himself into the centre of things, listening far more than talking.
Near the end of the night, Greg said that he and some of his buds were going to be at music club the next night to listen to a band that had another of their friends as its drummer.
"It's a new band, so we're trying to drum up as much audience as we can. If you're into a grunge rock kind of sound, maybe we'll see you there." His eye-lock with Lina told everyone who he was really asking, but then he pulled back and looked at the other women with some of that same intensity and Lina suspected that even Tory was feeling a quiver in her cunny. "It's a new grouping of musicians, so I can't absolutely vouch for how good they are, but Kenny is a really good drummer. And - if you say you're there to see
Foster Child
, you'll get an extra drink for your cover."
"Foster Child?" said Tory under one raised eyebrow.
"I know," laughed Greg. "I think they all separated from their earlier bands due to, um
artistic differences
, and this is apparently their new foster family."
After they finished their last dance and began returning to the table, Greg stopped Lina at the edge of the dance floor.
"I hope you can make it to club tomorrow night," he said. "But even if you can't, I'd like to call you if I could."
He had to know the answer was yes, but still his query was gentle, almost humble. Could he really be this nice?
"Yes, I'd like that," she said.
