This is a twisted little fable, based on a twisted little nightmare. I definitely need to get my head examined.
Oh well, enjoy!
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In general, Lena was able to control her temper, which was a good thing since she was an experienced practitioner of witchcraft. The talent for magic ran through the women in Lena's family, getting stronger with each generation. Lena was powerful and she had learned to control that power and use it for her benefit and those she cared for. Lena's friends thought of her as caring and generous, quick to help out and lavish with her gifts and hospitality.
It was rare to see Lena's temper really flare. In fact, it may have only really happened once.
Lena and her husband, Roger, lived in an affluent neighborhood in a large but not extravagant home. Roger was fully aware of Lena's abilities, but since Lena used them only for day-to-day conveniences and to maintain their comfortable lifestyle, he did not know just how powerful she was. Lena did not want to scare him so she was careful not to perform any overly dramatic acts of magic. On the rare occasion when Roger did something hurtful, Lena would be creative in showing her displeasure and Roger would behave himself, for a while. Roger was charming and attractive; tall, lean, well-muscled with emerald green eyes and wavy blond hair. Roger was not the sharpest tool in the shed, though, which may have been why Lena had a soft spot for him. Lena met the hapless Roger ten years earlier, an unambitious drifter who had no direction, earning a modest living as a bartender at a seaside restaurant, taking full advantage of his surfer-dude looks and attitude. Lena, smart and powerful as she was, was inexplicably smitten, so after a brief courtship during which time Lena slowly revealed her true nature and Roger mustered enough sense to recognize the advantages of living with a real-live spell-casting witch, they were wed.
They made a handsome couple. Lena was petite, with raven-black hair (which she would sometimes change to suit her mood), firm but small breasts, and violet eyes. She was alluring in a "girl-next-door" kind of way. She could have easily altered her appearance to look like a supermodel or porn-star – which on Roger's birthday she had done once or twice – but she preferred to live her life looking the way she was born.
Instead of simply living a lazy lavish lifestyle off of conjured wealth, Lena preferred to blend in with her surroundings; she owned and operated a small jewelry store. She made all the jewelry herself, combining her natural creativity with her magical skills, producing a rainbow of flawless gems whenever she needed them. For customers who she particularly liked, she would occasionally endow her wares with special powers, bestowing a boost of confidence or a dash of situational irresistibility on a deserving female trying to win the heart of a procrastinating beau. While Lena worked in her shop, Roger – who magically had developed world-class tennis skills overnight – worked as the tennis pro at a nearby country club. Between the money she made at her shop and the generous salary Roger earned, they lived comfortably and inconspicuously.
However, as often happens with dim-witted men, Roger began to take the truly miraculous life he had been given for granted. Even though Lena would indulge Roger's wild, and often indecorous, sexual fantasies, Roger's eyes would wander. Working as a tennis pro offered Roger many opportunities to cheat on Lena, with very little chance of getting caught. Roger managed to continue this disrespectful treatment of the lovely Lena for several years without her any wiser. And probably could have gone on indefinitely.
That is, until Cassandra and Brad moved in next door.
When Lena learned that she had new neighbors, she immediately invited the neighborhood over for a "welcome" party. With a wave of her hand, Lena converted her poolside patio into party central, each detail tastefully crafted, each morsel simple but delicious. The usual suspects arrived at the party and before long a good time was being had by all, a steady buzz of friendly conversation blending easily with the upbeat music. An hour passed, then two, and the guests of honor had not arrived. Lena began to get a bit irked; Cassandra and Brad had enthusiastically accepted the invite and a quick glance over the fence confirmed their car was in the driveway. Why were they not coming over?
The reason for their tardiness soon became clear. Cassandra liked to make an entrance. And so she did.
Wearing a clingy and all-too-revealing mini-dress, and red 6" high heels to match her blindingly shiny lips and exceptionally long fingernails, Cassandra pushed through the gate leading to the patio and posed, letting her new neighbors get a good long look at her. "Inappropriate" did not begin to describe Cassandra's attire, but that seemed to be the look she was going for. She drank in the attention, the slightly annoyed looks from the women present, and the leering lascivious looks from most of the men, several of whom self-consciously turned away or hastily hopped into the pool to hide their sudden erections.
Roger just stared, slack-jawed and bug-eyed. And Lena saw the stare and was momentarily hurt, wishing she had never decided to throw the party. But she quickly looked around and reminded herself that just moments before everyone, including her, had been having a wonderful time, so she quickly rallied and snapped into "gracious host" mode.
"Hello, Cassandra, hello Brad, welcome!" Lena said as she walked over to the couple, arms stretched open. In response, Cassandra extended her hand and, avoiding the hug, giving Lena a limp-fish finger-shake, accompanied by a phony and condescending smile. Brad, clearly wary of accepting a hug from another woman, took Lena's hand in his and gave her a warm handshake and appreciative smile. He was clearly touched, and rather impressed, at the trouble Lena and Roger had gone to.
"We're sorry we're late ..." Brad began, but was cut off by Lena, who had been scanning the crowd, mentally sizing up the other women.
"Nonsense, Brad, the party is just getting started," Cassandra said dismissively. "Besides, I'm sure Lara knows that dressing to make a first impression takes time."
"Lena," Brad corrected.
"Yes. Right. Sorry," Cassandra said over her shoulder as she walked past him toward the rest of the party. "Where is the bar, Lena?" She emphasized Lena's name, sounding irritated that her husband had corrected her. Or that Lena's name wasn't Lara. Without waiting for an answer Cassandra walked away, leaving the scent of her perfume hanging in the air.
Brad smiled weakly at Lena then dutifully followed along in Cassandra's wake. Most of the eyes of the party-goers followed Cassandra's wiggling butt as she made her way to the bar. She ordered a Cosmo, which naturally matched her lipstick and nails, and continued to survey the patio as if she were shopping for shoes. When Cassandra's eye fell on Roger, she handed her drink off to Brad and purposefully swished her way over to where Roger was unabashedly staring back her.
"I'm beginning to like this neighborhood more and more," cooed Cassandra as she approached Roger. Lena was watching as Cassandra made her way over to her husband and quickly walked over to intercept. "And who are YOU?" Cassandra gushed.
Before he could answer, Lena arrived at Roger's side and said, "Cassandra, this is my husband Roger." Cassandra shot Lena another irritated look and then turned back to Roger.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Roger. You and your wife are too kind to throw us this little party." Unlike the weak handshake, Cassandra leaned in, placed a hand on Roger's shoulder and kissed him on both cheeks, leaving a wet red lip print on each side. "Oooops," she giggled, "I seem to have marked you." Roger blushed slightly, and Lena turned red. "Now where did I leave my drink?" Cassandra turned away, locked eyes with Lena for an instant and gave her the same haughty smile she had given upon her arrival, and then walked back toward the bar where Brad had been silently watching. When she reached Brad she wordlessly held her hand out, and Brad rummaged in his pockets, producing a small compact and a tube of lip gloss, which Cassandra made a show of re-applying slowly and sensuously.
Lena put a hand behind her back and materialized a wet-wipe, which she used to wipe the lip gloss off Roger's cheeks. Roger's eyes, however, had never left Cassandra.
The party proceeded for several hours. The guests enjoyed the food and drink, and a good time was had by all. Except for Lena. She threw herself into playing hostess because every time she stopped to mingle, she would hear Cassandra purring at one or another of the male guests, shamelessly flirting, while Brad stood by, quietly on the sidelines. And all too often the small pack of men with whom Cassandra was chatting (and laughing and touching and ...) included Roger.
Lena noticed that Brad's beer bottle was empty, so she reached into the cooler, popped the cap with a slight wave of her finger, and walked over to Brad. "Here," she offered, "You look empty." Her choice or words was innocent but Brad took it a different way.
"You have no idea," he replied softly, then realized that she had meant his beer bottle, and reached out to take the fresh bottle. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Lena said. "So, where did you move here from?" she went on, trying to make polite conversation. As Brad began to answer, Lena felt a hand on her shoulder.
