A Note from the Author: All humans are well older than eighteen years of age. This is the second of a five-part series, the remainder of which has been completed and is being edited.
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Chapter 2: Winter's Spell
I exist apart.
Surely you have read that there is no such thing as true invisibility. Popular fiction describes becoming "dim" or "gray" or some other inconspicuous state. Imagine being so utterly boring that no one notices you! Perhaps those that describe invisibility in such a way are reflecting their own life experience. Dim and boring.
After Centrum Carminis, I knew inconspicuous invisibility was for dullards and dolts. True invisibility is possible for those with deep knowledge. It is but a song of fantastic light and splendid color. I stood in the bright forest and prepared myself for the experience to come. It would be anything but boring.
I removed my clothing, rings, and charms and began the song. As I sang, the words melted into the wind and my body took on a luminous quality. My skin was as sunlight passing through leaves and shimmering on the forest floor. And then, as the shimmering fades when the sun sets, my body faded into nothing.
I walked through the forest towards the little town of Winchester, eager to test the limits of the spell. A little red squirrel ran across the path mere inches in front of me, causing me to jump back in surprise. I was accustomed to animals keeping their distance in the woods, so had apparently passed my first test.
This would be an ideal state for observing nature, if I were interested in such banalities. Birds roosted in trees so close that I could have snapped their necks. A deer feasted on acorns at the base of an oak tree so close that I heard the animal swallow. A coyote ran from me, and I questioned if it had caught wind of my scent or sensed me some other way. Perhaps it ran from some other unseen predator? I wondered whether there were there wolves about.
Always curious, I spat on the ground. As soon as the liquid formed a discrete droplet independent of my body, it became visible. I made a mental note that cold weather invisibility may present challenges due to condensation of the moisture in the breath. Dripping sweat might pose a similar problem in the heat. I moved on.
As I neared Winchester, the forest gave way to tidy little houses with round little people. I watched them through their windows as they performed such exciting activities as folding laundry, reading books, preparing and eating food, and otherwise burning away the tallow of their lives. I watched a man absently kiss his wife on the cheek before lighting his pipe and wandering off to waste another day.
I do not know what made me stop at the house with the wide back yard, but I often wish I had passed. I stood and considered the wide rectangular window on the side of the house, somehow drawn to it. My logical mind insisted that I would witness more little people doing little things, but some deeper part yearned to look inside.
The room was unremarkable, and so was man therein. Bearded, balding, bespectacled, and well-fed, he sat reading a paper. Typical in all aspects. I guessed his age to be forty, plus or minus three years. There was gray in that beard. He wore a plain blue shirt, denim pants, and house slippers. The room was neat and quaintly decorated. I knew a woman would be about.
She entered the room just then, and my life took a turn. Thick, straight, blond hair framed a perfectly symmetric face. Her blue eyes communicated intelligence and humor. She smiled at the man and her teeth were perfect. He paid her no attention and my indifference to him immediately blossomed to visceral disgust. She wore a man's plaid flannel shirt, but she could not disguise the curves of her chest or hips. Denim pants revealed an exquisite ass and shapely legs. I guessed her to be a few years younger than the man. The ungrateful fool of a man.
I was immediately drawn to her. Her beauty was like nothing I'd seen before, or maybe an idealized picture of beauty from my youth. Her body harkened to the best of my adolescent dreams. She spoke just then to the man, her voice light and filled with cheer.
"I'm going to go out and pick some berries for a pie later. There were full bushes out on the ridge. I'll be back in a few hours, before dark."
He absently nodded and said, "Be careful, Winter."
Winter. I nearly felt a song well up from my heart at the mere discovery of her name. Have you ever consumed a food or purchased an item and felt fulfilled? As though you suddenly understood what you had been missing? Winter. Was it her true name?
She disappeared from the room, and the man returned to his paper. I made my way to the rear of the small house and waited to see her alone. A few moments later she emerged, her blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She carried a wicker basket and a bottle of water. Winter looked neither happy nor unhappy. I supposed most people wear a neutral expression when they thought they were alone. Still, Winter was breathtaking up close. I could nearly smell her.
She moved briskly up a narrow path from the backyard towards a ridge to the north. I followed from a short distance, my trip to Winchester all but forgotten. Obsession unfolded with terrifying speed and intensity. Looking back, although I found Winter to be beautiful, I wasn't initially drawn to her in an overtly sexual way. Rather, I wanted to know her and I wanted her to know me. I was desperate for that interaction. I imagined conversation with her. Hope and uncertainty balanced feverishly in my mind. I burned with the fire of limerence.
I considered breaking the invisibility, but I would be laid bare in front of her. She would surely spook at the sudden appearance of a naked man in the wilderness. Imagine then my absolute shock when Winter suddenly left the path and passed behind a thicket to find a naked man in the wilderness. I nearly cried out, but she didn't seem remotely surprised. She dropped the basket and bottle and hurried towards him, and I watched his smile grow.
Who was this naked stranger? He had dark hair, an athletic build, and my unending hatred. From his muscular legs to his defined chest muscles, I hated him. He touched her with such skill, such familiarity, I despised him. I didn't care who he was, because she clearly wanted him.
As she reached him, he framed her face with his hands, middle fingers just behind her ears. Their eyes locked and they kissed. A full kiss, tongues dancing in each other's mouths. I watched as her hands found his hips. She pulled against him, grinding her hips into him.
The kiss broke and he asked, "How long do we have?"
She smiled gaily at him. "At least an hour, but you have to help me pick berries after."
He chuckled and brushed a lock of her hair behind an ear. "At least an hour. How will we ever fill the time, Mari?"
Mari. Winter's secret name shared with her lover. How I wanted to call her by that name! How I hated him for calling her that name!
She answered him. "I have a few ideas."
They kissed again and made their way to a blanket spread under a small sycamore tree. Mari traced the man's chest with her fingertips, gently circling one nipple. She stared directly into his eyes without expression and gently pinched his nipple. I watched as his penis began to harden, and felt a stir in my own.
My invisibility fully intact, I sat down on an old stump for a front row view to a tryst. I could not keep my eyes from her. I could not keep my hatred from him. I could not leave.
Like a familiar dance, she leaned in and kissed him while he slowly unbuttoned her flannel shirt. I saw his hand explore inside, caressing her nipple. Mari gently moaned through the kiss. The mere sound of her excitement caused blood to flood into my rapidly hardening cock. Slowly, he removed her shirt, letting it drop on the blanket. Underneath, she wore a plain white bra. Functional for the walk but oddly sensual.
