The Thaumaturge Ch 02

Maybe you think I was stupid for not immediately chasing after this strange interaction. Trying to figure out what was going on. Texting Lauren to demand an explanation.

If so, I'd just remind you: I was young. It was Friday night. I had just gotten my rocks off. My performance been embarrassing. I went to a big school; there would be other girls. There was a summer of light classwork and an easy part-time job ahead of me for the next few months. Life was pretty good. I didn't need to make it more complicated. Didn't need to send the half-apology follow-up text I had sometimes sent after this sort of thing happened to try to get a second chance. Didn't need to know what

thaumaturge

meant. I wanted to keep my life simple.

It was about to

get

more complicated, though.

---

"So, dude, you came in pretty late from that date. It go well?" Chris eyed me over a plate stacked high with food, which was rapidly disappearing. He was a big guy, both tall and overweight; he had never played sports to my knowledge, but still had the build of a retired NFL player who had let himself go. He had been my freshman year roommate. A computer science major. Huge nerd, great guy.

"I, uh...yeah, I guess it did." I nodded uncomfortably.

Alyssa hooted. "Ooh, you get laid?"

Chris had pulled in Alyssa and Sam when we decided we wanted to split an apartment three or four ways to keep our rent low. He knew them both from high school -- he had grown up locally, and knew lots of folks who ended up going to school here.

Alyssa was short, with a shock of cropped red hair, pale skin, and more tattoos than I could count. She was an Art major

and

apprenticing with a local tattoo artist. She had been Chris's friend first, but we had met without me realizing that in one of the Art classes I had taken last year. She was brash, outgoing, fun.

Right now, however, I shrugged, sheepishly.

How much detail did I want to get into here?

Alyssa frowned. "C'mon, spill. This is the whole point of having roommates! We all get to talk about our wild weekends, and I know Chris and I were both home all night..." she trailed off, clearly hoping for a salacious story.

I laughed. I liked Alyssa. "I, uh, I mean, yeah, it was a great date. We went back to her place after..."

Chris made a low

ooooo

sound in between inhaling pancakes.

I continued, opting for diplomatically

not

kissing and telling. "Anyway, we, uh, did some stuff, but then --"

"You

did some stuff

? What are you, twelve?" Alyssa interrupted me.

I held up my hands. I had known it wouldn't work. "Okay, okay. She went down on me --" I trailed off as Alyssa gave a congratulatory whoop and high-fived me.

"But then, after we were done, she was, um, texting with a friend and I saw some of the messages. She called me a

thaumaturge

. Either of you guys heard that? Know if it's like, slang for something?"

They both shook their heads.

"Sounds like, uh, dungeons and dragons stuff. Maybe Harry Potter," Chris mused.

Alyssa just shrugged. "Probably an inside joke with her friends. You must've really rocked her world. You're a sex wizard, 'Arry!"

Chris laughed. I didn't. I definitely

had not

rocked her world.

Alyssa continued. "You gonna see her again?"

"I dunno. She was hot. I thought we had awesome chemistry."

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "She was hot," she mimicked. "God, men suck. Did you even

like

her?"

"I mean, yeah, I thought so, but...the texting-with-a-friend right after, the weird slang, kinda threw me. Just...made me uncomfortable."

Alyssa shrugged again. "I mean, can't blame her for talking with friends. What would she think if she knew that you told Chris and I that she went down on you? Kind of crude of you, Matt."

I bit back pointing out that

Alyssa

was the one who had wanted me to talk about it in the first place...but she had already moved on anyway. She pursed her lips. "Hot, huh? Let's see her profile, then."

I pulled it up. Alyssa swiped through her photos. "Damn, you weren't kidding. She's way hotter than you are, no offense. How'd you pull her? Know her already from a class or something?"

I shook my head, increasingly uncomfortable with the scrutiny this was getting. But Chris and Alyssa were good friends, and honestly, it was confirming my feeling that this

had

been kind of weird. I pulled up the chat history. Alyssa read through it, openmouthed, and silently passed it to Chris, who just blinked, stunned. "Wow. You were playing on easy mode. This girl wanted to fuck you from the get-go.."

Alyssa laughed. "For real. '

Meet the cat, maybe you'd make her happy?'

Ugh. She was gagging for it."

I shrugged uncomfortably, taking my phone back. "Whatever. Okay, your turn, let's hear about your last date."

Alyssa shook her head, primly. "Nah, you and Chris would just be perverts about it."

Chris looked offended. "I would not!"

I shook my head at Alyssa's hypocrisy, sitting back and listening as they bickered. Alyssa and Chris's reactions just confirmed the weird feeling I had. It had been easy.

Too

easy, for how hot Lauren was; she was way out of my league. It confirmed the feeling that Lauren had some kind of ulterior motive.

Well, I didn't have to talk to her again. I hadn't texted her. I didn't need to.

I went about my day.

---

I got some laundry and errands done, and stopped by the art studio -- I wasn't technically supposed to be using it since I wasn't currently taking any art classes, but there was a lot of leniency shown to students who had taken a class and were planning on taking more. I worked on one of my projects for a few hours and then headed home.

Part of me wanted to just have a quiet night in, after the way things turned out last night. But I was a little worried that if I didn't get back out there, I'd get in my head about the weird interaction with Lauren. I was committed to a summer that was

fun

. Living it up a bit.

So -- with that in mind, and a sigh of resignation -- I pulled up the dating apps again. It was Saturday. I should at least swipe through some matches.

And then I froze, staring at the very first profile I was presented with.

A bubbly-looking blonde was smiling at me. She was gorgeous. But that wasn't what had stopped me in my tracks. It was the name.

VIVIAN, 22, 5'9"

.

I stared, weirded out enough that I could feel the hairs on my arm stand up.

Viv.

I mean, it had to be, right? I didn't know for sure, but it wasn't exactly a common name, was it?

This was a serious fucking coincidence. (That's what I thought at the time, anyway.)

It was almost enough to make me delete the app. But, after hesitating a long moment, I started flipping through the profile.

S

he was hot, I decided. Just as hot as Lauren. Maybe hotter.

Blue eyes. Blonde hair. A pretty face that seemed to have a perpetual smirk, a twist in her smile that signaled mischief. Like she had pulled some practical joke on you and was just waiting to see when you'd notice. A photo where she had one hand over her mouth, a look of astonishment on her face as she stared at an elephant at the zoo. Her on a boat, laughing, wearing sunglasses and a strappy blue bikini that showed off a

phenomenal

set of tits.

And then, the last photo: Vivian,

Lauren

, and a few other girls, all dressed up as witches for some Halloween party, posing together.

Sexy

witches, I couldn't help but observe, as I scanned over an array of black tights and short dresses.

Vivian was front and center, wearing a bustier that only barely qualified as a costume. She was looking, suggestively, at the haft of the broomstick she was holding.

The girl immediately to her right was, unquestionably,

Lauren

, in a short little black dress and pointy witch's hat. I'd recognize those green eyes anywhere.

Yep. This must be

Viv

. Who Lauren had been texting with.

I screenshotted the photo. I told myself it was evidence that I wasn't fucking crazy, that this was seriously weird.

Now intrigued, and done with the photos, I flipped to Vivian's bio, which read:

Nice to meet you, where you been? // I could show you incredible things // Magic, madness, heaven, sin

I recognized the bio -- lines from a song. I wasn't a fan, but there was no escaping Taylor Swift, and Vivian was hardly the first blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman to use a Taylor Swift lyric in their dating bio.

Vivian's interests were listed as: travel, shopping, music, fashion. She was also a student here; a senior. She also had every box checked in the "looking for" section, just like Lauren: friends, casual, serious, hookup, dating, long-term.

That was it; the whole profile. The app prompted me for a decision: match her, or not?

I hesitated, considering, idly backing up to go through her profile again, looking at the pictures, the bio.

Curiosity warred with caution. Vivian being the very first profile I was presented with was a little too convenient. It felt like a setup...but a setup for what, and by whom, I wasn't sure.

That word.

Thaumaturge

.

I wavered, trying to decide what to do.

Ultimately, the photos clinched it. Scrolling back through them, seeing that photo of her in the bikini, my libido came down with a tiebreaking vote firmly on the side of curiosity.

I swiped right and matched her.

I mean, who even knew if she'd match me back anyway, right?

---

She matched me back less than an hour later.

Vivian had matched me, but she didn't message me anything, the way that Lauren had. So the ball was in my court. Her bio made it easy enough. I flipped back up and decided to reply directly to the last line:

Magic, madness, heaven, sin

Matt: Do we have to do all four of them in that order, or can we skip around a bit?

She replied almost immediately.

Vivian: Omg, which do you want to skip? They're all good!

Matt: I mean madness scares me a little bit lol

Vivian: So you're the type of guy who just wants to get straight to heaven, huh? ;) But a little magic might get us there faster!

I blushed a little, thinking about how fast I had cum for Lauren the night before. I debated mentioning knowing Lauren from one of her photos, but decided against it. Better to do that in person, so I could see her reaction.

Matt: Well, let's meet up and see whether it's madness or magic; then we can decide whether to get to the heaven and sinning. What're you doing tonight?

Vivian: I was gonna go to the party at Dizzy Dog tonight around 8 -- wanna meet up there?

Matt: Sure, sounds fun!

Vivian: Great, it's themed. Check their website. I'll see you there!

That had been...easy.

Way

too easy. Four messages.

I felt like I had a pretty accurate self-image. I was reasonably attractive. But Vivian sounded and certainly looked like a classic, life-of-the-party, flirty, hot blonde with big tits. Guys must be

throwing

themselves at her. What was she doing, agreeing to go on a date with me this easily on short notice?

It made me suspicious. The way I'd been suspicious of Lauren, last night.

And also...I sighed, thinking about her choice in venue. Dizzy Dog was the local college bar, huge, with several floors of cheap pitchers, sticky tables, and loud music. Not my favorite vibe. And a

themed

party? I pulled up their website, which indicated they were doing a theme night every single Saturday this summer. Of course.

Tonight's theme was

pool party

.

I tried to focus on maybe getting to see Vivian in that bikini.

And maybe getting some answers about her, Lauren...what a

thaumaturge

was.

---

I showed up at Dizzy Dog wearing a tank top, flip flops, and swim trunks. I was in decent shape and didn't mind showing it off, but shirtless felt excessive. I paid the cover and got inside, looking around for Vivian.

It was a chaotic mess. Undergrads in various creative interpretations of 'pool party' -- women in bikinis, men in speedos, someone wearing full scuba gear, someone else with some pool floaties -- cavorted with each other to some EDM; the bass was loud enough to be rattling my eardrums. Bar staff were handing out daquiri shots and glow-in-the-dark pool noodles, both of which people were waving about excitedly.

There was no way I could find her in this mess. I made my way around the edge of the dance floor, then across the dance floor...

And then she tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around. Vivian was tall -- shorter than me, but only by an inch or so. Long blonde hair played around her shoulders as she bobbed in time with the music. She gave me a little wave, mouthed

hi

at me.

I barely noticed. I had, I'll admit it, been hoping she'd be wearing the blue bikini from that photo in her profile.

Her outfit showed off a bit less skin, but I wasn't complaining. She was wearing a skintight, bright red rashguard -- like a surfer might wear, maybe. It was zippered in the front, and was currently unzippered halfway down her stomach, showing off a deep valley of full cleavage. A pair of bikini bottoms in matching red completed the look. She would have fit right in on Baywatch.

She leaned in close to me, and said, right in my ear, so I could hear her over the music, "Hi! Oh my god, you're

staring

at my tits. C'mon, get it together and dance with me."

Blushing -- hoping my blush wasn't visible in the dim light -- I did.

She was a great dancer. I was not. She didn't seem to mind, laughing delightedly as we danced. I stared as she moved, watching her chest bounce in the top, her long legs twist and flex...

fuck

, she was hot. I couldn't take my eyes off her. People around us were staring at her, too -- women and men both. I couldn't blame them.

We danced that way for maybe half an hour, before she pulled me off the dance floor to the bar, grinning.

We were both sweaty and breathing heavily. We went to the bar and I ordered us two beers.

The music was still deafening; we were standing close and had to lean in, speaking almost directly into each other's ears, to talk.

"You're a terrible dancer." Her eyes sparkled as she said it.

That put me on my back foot, but I rallied quickly with a rejoinder. Putting as much scolding, mock-outrage in my voice, I said, "Vivian, that is incredibly rude of you."

"First of all, call me Viv. Everyone does. I only get called by my full name when I've done something bad...ooh, am I in

trouble

?" The delight in her voice was clear, and now she was wearing that same smirk from her profile photos.

I laughed and nodded. "A lot of trouble," I said, my tone mock-serious.

"Oh,

good

. That's when I'm at my best." She dragged me back out on to the dance floor.

---

This pattern repeated itself several more times over the course of two hours. We'd dance a bit. We'd drink a bit. We'd talk a bit. We'd dance some more.

By the end of it, I have to admit, I was having a great time. Vivian was sarcastic, flirty. Really hot. And it was honestly nice to just cut loose.

It was almost enough to make me forget that tonight,

I

was the one with an ulterior motive.

Almost.

Finally, we agreed that we'd had enough dancing. We found a hightop table in the corner of the second floor, about as far from a speaker as we could get.

"So, Matt...what do you look for in a girl?" She had mischief in her face.

I could tell what she wanted was some banter, not a serious answer. Thinking quickly, I decided this was the best opportunity to direct the conversation the way I wanted.

"Well, there's one primary criteria: a lot of hot friends for me to sleep with after we break up," I joked, deadpan. "That's what made me swipe on you -- that last photo in your profile, the one of you and all your friends dressed up as witches."

She laughed, nodding, playing along. "Uh huh. I see. You think my friends are hot, then?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Actually, I think I recognized one of them..." I paused, hoping she'd react somehow.

I wasn't disappointed.

There was a slight, but perceptible shift in her body language. Her eyes narrowed a little. She leaned forward. "Yeah? How? Slept with one of them already?" Her tone was still light, casual. Like she was joking. But the intensity of the question was ratcheted up considerably.

I had expected that question. I kept my answer light. "Oh, nah, in a class last year, I think." I tried to sound uncertain. Then I snapped my fingers. "...Or maybe in the weekly orgy I go to. Even odds of either, really."

She nodded, ignoring the orgy joke. Her tone was still casual, but her body language was practically

vibrating

, she was so tense. "Mm. Which friend? Which class?"

I shrugged. "Oh, uh, Writing 101 maybe? It was a big lecture hall. The one with the dark hair, who was next to you in the photo, I think."

Trying to keep up the banter, I added, "I don't remember her name. Not sure I ever knew it. It happens sometimes, y'know. With women I meet."

She nodded, relaxing a bit, and smiling again, but didn't laugh. "Ah, okay. Yeah, that's Lauren. A writing class would make sense. She's the bookish sort."

Well, that was confirmation of what I already knew, but not anything

new

. I decided I could get away with probing a bit further. "Yeah? Are those your sorority sisters, or something?"

She nodded. "Something like that, yeah." I saw her shift, as she realized she was probably being oddly intense about my question. She visibly relaxed, taking a deep breath, and put the mischievous smirk back on her face. "You wouldn't like Lauren, though. She's pretty, but kind of quiet. Boring. Compared to me, I mean."

"I dunno, sometimes the quiet ones surprise you," I noted. I tried to think of a way to get anything else out of her without...well, giving away what I was

really

interested in.

She arched an eyebrow playfully. "What about the outgoing ones?"

"Sometimes they disappoint you," I quipped. "That's why the hot friends are so important. For rebounds."

She made a pouting face. "Do I look disappointing?"

I opened my mouth to reply, and as I did, she inched the zipper on the front of her rashguard even lower. It was already well below her cleavage -- but this had the effect of letting the front open further, exposing more of her full tits, flawless tanned skin. I stared instead of speaking. God damn.

"I mean, you don't

seem

disappointed. Maybe

you'll

be the disappointing one." She was smug.

I blushed, but tried not to let that faze me, and nodded. "I will, for sure. I've told you, after we break up, I'm going to try to sleep with all your friends. It will be

incredibly

disappointing."

She laughed appreciatively. "Well, that disappointment sounds like it's a ways off. Will we at least have incredible sex until then?"

I hesitated. The truth -- and the funnier answer, I judged -- was probably to tell her no. To joke about how I'd leave her so disappointed that we'd break up immediately, so I could get to her hot friends more quickly, or something.

I didn't say that. Maybe my performance with Lauren making me self-conscious about a joke like that. Maybe I just saw the opportunity. But I decided to take a risk.

I kept the same deadpan, casual tone. "Probably. I am a sex sorcerer. Like, an actual wizard. A

thaumaturge

, if you will."

Her eyes widened in shock the moment the word

thaumaturge

came out of my mouth. She was silent for a moment, stunned, and then tried to recover. "O-oh yeah?"

It was obvious I had thrown her off completely. The word

meant

something. Was important. I knew it.