Rylee considered herself a white witch, but it wasn't something she took terribly seriously, unless pressed. Most days, for her being witch simply meant meditating, putting good vibes out into the world and then going to work and living like most everyone else. Occasionally, she would do actual ceremonies or cast specific spells from the internet. Spells to receive money, luck or have a certain handsome man fall in love with her, nothing too complex.
When she moved into a new apartment in an old building with a mere six apartments in it, she did a smudge ceremony to cleanse the space and she asked the spirits of the land permission to work her small spells there. When she didn't feel any spiritual resistance to her request, she settled in and set protection spells on her space and when everything was ready set up a small alter.
The small table dedicated to her practise was packed with incense, crystals and the trappings of the craft. A circled pentagram to represent the earth, a bronze chalice with water in it, incense for air, a candle for fire, an offering of salt and herbs in tiny, beautiful, ceramic bowls all set aesthetically on a woven cloth decorated with moons stars and the sun smiling in the centre. Various meaningful gewgaws and a sheathed knife filled the spaces between the ritual items in an artful clutter she spent a lot of time getting just right.
Practising her witchcraft the way a casual yoga practitioner uses words like chakra, namaste and the words of the practise with little understanding of the true history or meaning, Rylee was a fair weather witch. Since she didn't identify with traditional religions and didn't enjoy those communities in general, yet still had a longing for spiritual meaning in her life, she gravitated to new age witchcraft that had little practical structure, no formal meetings and a much kinder community, in her experience.
When she finished setting up her alter and did a ritual to awaken it in her new space, she did a taro reading and went to bed feeling pleased to have her new home fully set up now that her alter was in place.
That night, Rylee's dreams were chaotic and graphic. Sex infiltrated every dream she had and, in the morning, she awoke so horny she needed to masturbate before crawling out of bed to start her day. As she rubbed herself, she saw multiple images and couldn't discipline her mind to fantasize about the man at work she had a crush on as she wanted. Instead, faces and bodies flashed across her mind in a maelstrom of images. In spite of having no focus, her body demanded she continue rubbing her burning clit until she climaxed, which took ages, leaving her in a frustrated, sweaty heap after spending too long struggling to cum.
Rushing through a shower, she tried again, her body tingling as she cleansed herself, her hands eliciting arousal as she soaped herself. Craving an orgasm, she couldn't focus on a situation, or single person. Faces from her past, faces she didn't know, both men and woman flitted across her mind's eye never remaining long enough to build an erotic fantasy around.
Forcing herself to quit, she got out of the shower with little time to catch the subway to work on schedule. Scrambling to get ready, she felt warm, flushed and sexually frustrated. Slipping a simple summer dress and panties on, the slender, small breasted woman glanced at herself in the mirror, silently asking if she were actually going to work like that.
The vision in the mirror with a dark mass of curly hair tangled in a damp, unruly cascade over thin shoulders and around a petite neck showed far more skin than usual. The dress she wore was one she always wore a t-shirt under because the neckline plunged low between her breasts showing her sternum, the spaghetti-straps over her shoulders exposed collar bones in front and shoulder blades behind, the back opening even deeper than the front. The arm holes also cut away lower than she would normally bare, her sides visible lower than the bottom of her breasts on both sides. A bustier woman would be spilling out of such a dress, but Rylee's small A cup breasts could only be seen if she leaned forward, but, if she bent far enough, an entire breast would be visible.
For a reason she couldn't fathom, in her haste, she decided it was fine to go to work as a pharmacist dressed like she was going to the beach. Justifying it by telling herself she would be wearing her lab coat over the dress, she rushed out the door. Casual flats on her feet, a tiny wallet purse over one slim shoulder and the frantic woman sped out the door, locking it behind herself. Running down the stairs to the front of the small building, her bright green eyes flashed with anxiety about making her train.
As she exited the front of the building, a familiar delivery man called out for her to hold the door. Normally she wouldn't have done it, but she'd already had a pair of pleasant encounters with him while he delivered to the older woman who lived next door to Rylee. Knowing he was safe, the pretty pharmacist held the door for him. As he passed inside, his hand brushed hers where she held the door. It was a glancing connection, over in less than a second, but the connection they made was profound and powerful.
Abruptly, Rylee's mind was hijacked completely. Submerged utterly into a dream-state, the confused woman suddenly found herself within a kaleidoscopic dreamscape where the room she appeared in constantly altered. The walls pulsed, changing colour, the floor throbbing and changing texture, the light flickering from the ceiling and lamps around the room that was momentarily a bedroom, then a living room, then a kitchen, changing every few heartbeats.
With the certainty that comes while dreaming, Rylee knew she was inside the delivery man's fantasy. There he was, before her, a woman sitting on a shifting object, sometimes a sofa, bed, or table. The woman's face was indistinct, morphing from one person to another. Rylee didn't know any of the women, but the driver did and his knowledge informed her as they shimmered from woman to woman. The driver was on his knees, his face buried between the thighs of the women, obviously performing oral sex on them as all the woman were in the throes of ecstasy.
Immediately aroused, Rylee felt a symbiotic connection with the delivery man, his passion her own, his desires hers and how he felt about each woman interlaced with memory, as if she knew them. Unbalanced by the intensity of suddenly feeling so many foreign sensations, Rylee held still, struggling to maintain separation from the man.
Intuiting that she was somehow sharing his sexual fantasies, Rylee observed, unable to do anything about what was happening to her.
The man took great delight in performing oral sex on his lovers. The women were past partners and women he wished he could be with shuffled together in a jumble as his brain spat out images. Some were dressed, because he didn't have memories of their nudity, but many were exposed, Rylee abruptly intimately familiar with their bodies, their taste, the heat and softness of them. Knowing what it felt like to run a tongue over their clits, Rylee shared his pleasure at the sensation, the thrill of being intimate with another person, the joy he took in providing orgasms. Caught in the cascade of sensation and emotions the delivery man experienced while dreaming of sex, Rylee absorbed it all without knowing how to stop, slow or stem the flow.
A straight, cis woman, Rylee had never been with a woman, but having the man's passion for eating pussy inserted into her mind unexpectedly somehow implanted all the positive connotations the delivery driver had about going down on a woman into Rylee. Without warning, the previously heterosexual woman was filled with the driver's infatuation with eating out women. The previous repulsion Rylee felt about the idea of licking a vagina instantly shared space with the man's excitement about it.
Then it was over and she was still standing at the door, the uniformed man she'd just been inside of stepping into her building, the door closing behind him. Carrying on with the step she'd been taking, Rylee almost stumbled, but habit carried her forward as her subconscious proprioception took over walking for her. While it did, the rest of her brain processed a deluge of new information.
Utterly confused as to what had just happened to her, Rylee walked in a daze, automatically going to work, but inwardly focused on seeking answers to how that had happened, why it had happened and what she should do about it. Beneath the confusion and worry, keen, insistent arousal thrummed in her body as her subconscious reconciled the erotic memories it had so swiftly uploaded.
