We were going to see a witch. At least that's what Robin said. She had met a woman at the library who claimed to be a witch. That was all it took. Now we were on our way to a seance, or a spell casting, or some other strange, arcane rite.
A long time ago I'd found out it was best to humor Robin when she went off on these little tangents. Computer lessons, yoga, gardening classes, aerobic workouts. The list was long. Now witchcraft. Why not?
Robin led the way down the hallway on an upper floor of an older, but still impressive apartment building. The carpet was clean and unworn even in front of the elevator. The rest of the decor was of similar high standard. Nothing too ostentatious, but everything showed well maintained quality.
Witchcraft must pay better than teaching school, I thought to myself. Meanwhile, I enjoyed the view of my wife's tight little blue-jeaned butt as we walked down the hall.
With one more look over her shoulder to make certain I wasn't lagging behind, Robin stepped to a door and knocked firmly. I guess I expected a witch to be a haggard old crone, but the woman who answered the door was anything but that. I tried not to gape with my mouth open, but it was hard. Robin introduced a vision of loveliness as Veilalla.
Robin is a little on the short side, and with her thin body and shoulder-length blond hair, she is frequently mistaken for a teenager instead of a married woman in her late twenties. Once my friend Greg told me I didn't deserve such a cute wife, but I rather enjoyed the way Robin was able to capture male eyes when she walked into a room.
Veilalla was an almost complete opposite. She was tall and dark complected. Her lustrous mane of black hair reached almost to the small of her back. Her eyes were piercing, and high cheek bones gave her an exotic look.
Have I mentioned her figure? Veilalla had a body that was absolutely captivating. High, full breasts seemed to strain under the material of her short dress. Her legs were long an shapely all the way down to her bare feet.
I tried not to stare, but when she extended her hand to me, I was able to look down, to her hand and admire the flare of her hips barely covered by the material of the dress. Her hand was warm and firm. I repressed an urge to bring her fingers to my lips for a kiss, but it also seemed as if her touch lingered just a little longer than necessary before she released my hand and stepped back.
"Come in," she said. "Jay, Robin has told me so much about you, I feel like I've know you for a long time."
Feeling a little dumb-struck with Veilalla's beauty I managed to blurt, "You're a witch?"
Robin poked my arm and started to say something which would probably contain the word "blockhead."
Instead Veilalla laughed. "Expecting something from Macbeth perhaps? Of course I'm a witch. That's why you came this evening. And call me Vi. Everyone does."
So what does one do when you walk into a coven brimming over with satanic rites? You sit on the couch, have drinks, and talk about the weather. At least that's what we did.
Vi made us comfortable on the sofa and served us both a rum punch she mixed from a small but well stocked bar. I knew I'd babble like a fool if I got going, so I let Robin and Vi do most of the talking. Slowly I began to relax and enjoy the give and take between my wife and the gorgeous "witch." Vi seemed to have just a trace of an accent, but I couldn't place it.
Their conversation turned to a clinical discussion me. I began to get distressed and embarrassed as Robin related some of my recent failings in the bedroom. At least that's what she called them. I'd been working hard lately, and some nights I just wasn't in the mood to do the hot-n-heavy before going to bed. Even when we'd been dating, Robin had been the one that initiated most of our sexual sessions. Still, it distressed me to hear her telling her beautiful friend these intimate details of our life.
"So, Jay. Do you not want to please Robin?"
"Of course I do." Embarrassed, I was a shade too emphatic.
"Good. Then you would let Robin control your sex life?"
"She already does, for crying out loud."
"Not completely. She would like to be completely satisfied, and for that, you would have to surrender your control."
I shrugged. What was the difference? "Sure. Why not?"
Vi smiled at me, and I almost melted on the spot. "Good," she said. "I think you will really enjoy this."
She turned and took Robin by the hand and led her over to a table half covered with old books. I started to get up to follow, but Vi gestured with her left hand which was behind my wife, and suddenly I found I couldn't get up off the couch. I could move around physically. Nothing seemed to be holding me down. I just couldn't summon the energy it would take to get up.
Vi took another glance my way, and, when I looked into her eyes, I found I wasn't worried about not getting up. I was just content to sit there and watch them put their heads together over an old book in the middle of the table. Their voices were low, but I could hear the occasional questioning tone in Robins voice. Finally I heard her say, "That's it?"
"See," Vi replied, "It's all unlocked by the gestures after you've made the connection."
"So all I'll have to do..." Robin still seemed uncertain.
"That's all, but first we have to make the connection," Vi assured her.
"How do I do that?"
"You have to build up a charge of energy in your body, but I'll help with that. First we have to relax and get ourselves ready." Vi led Robin to the middle of the room and knelt on the thick plush carpet. "Here. First we need to do some relaxation exercises. Kick off your shoes, and we'll start with some stretching."
Robin sat down on the floor, undid her running shoes, and stuffed her socks inside them. "Oh, this carpet feels good on my feet," she exclaimed curing her toes into the carpet.
Vi smiled. "That's why I chose it. I love to go around bare, and I just love the way it feels."
They both giggled over Vi's revelation then Vi positioned herself behind Robin and began to rub her neck and shoulders.
