Every month I will feature stories from some
really talented guest writers. Enjoy!
Incoming Call- Kris Winter
Jill and Ben stepped off the
elevator and followed the sign showing Room 1201 to the left. They hauled
their carryon bags down the hallway on the flamboyant industrial casino
carpet past the ice machine and stopped outside their room.
“I can’t believe we’re
finally here.” said Jill. Ben swiped the pass card through the brass sensor
and entered the room with Jill behind him. She closed the heavy door,
surveying the luxurious suite.
“Not bad, huh?” Ben asked.
“You feel like having a drink downstairs or having wine sent up?”
“Let’s stay in tonight. I
still haven’t given up on the damn airline finding our luggage.” Ben picked
up the phone and dialed room service as Jill began unpacking their carryon
They showered together,
enjoying the hot water as they lathered each other, anticipating an amorous
weekend in the neon desert. For them, what happened here didn’t have to stay
here. Two hours later they were on their second bottle, lounging on the bed
in white terrycloth hotel robes. “Did you want to try out your ‘special’
anniversary gift?” Ben said. She looked at him, wide-eyed. “I’d love to, but
the fucking thing is in our luggage. Somewhere a baggage handler’s handling
a bag with my new vibrator.”
“At least the condoms are in
my carryon.” He said. “I may have to pick up the slack tonight.”
“Alright. But just so you
know? There were new batteries in it.” she said in playful intimidation.
He went to the bathroom and
came back with a sleeping mask bearing the hotel logo. “Put this on and lie
“Okay, I’ll play along.” She
hesitated, not sure what he was up to, but soon took the mask, put it over
her eyes and lay down. She felt the friction of her robe belt being pulled
undone, then the coolness of the air conditioning on her body as he opened
her robe, exposing her breasts and pubic hair. Then she heard the mattress
creak as he reached for something, followed by a zipper. It was one of their
carryon bags. Next she heard the sound of rummaging, then a smaller zipper
that sounded like her makeup kit.
There was no sound for a few
seconds before she felt a very faint touching sensation on her nipple. It
tickled at first. Then he began to stroke it very lightly – Too lightly to
be using his fingers. “What is that?” she asked. She felt more pressure, in
a slow circular motion around each areola now, causing her nipples to become
hard. She shifted herself on the robe, adjusting the position of her hips.
The motion stopped for a second, and when she felt the same texture on her
cheekbone, she recognized it instantly. He was exciting her with her makeup
She heard more rummaging.
“Getting innovative to compensate for no vibrator, is that it?” she asked.
The bed creaked again and there was more rummaging, this time with the clink
of his cologne and aftershave bottles. Then silence followed by the
unmistakable tear of a condom wrapper. She smiled.
She listened as the condom
was taken from the wrapper and stretched. The small snapping noises the
latex made told her it was being put on…Something. “What are you doing?” she
asked. Her next sensation was his cool breath blowing on her pubic mound
through pursed lips, a favorite arousal technique of his, and particularly
effective now. She spread her legs slightly. Now she felt the first
tentative licks of his warm tongue. She still delighted in the way he’d
deliberately touch her there with his tongue first. His licking became more
passionate, till he sucked her clitoris in between his lips, flicking it
gently inside his mouth. She raised her hips off the bed slightly.
He then returned to licking
with the tip. She became aware that his skillful licking was slowly giving
way to another pressure. As he explored the opening of her warm wet lips
with his tongue, the other pressure was cool and steady as it traced a
circular motion on her clitoral hood. His steady lapping of her labia
combined with the unknown object teasing her clit resulted in her
involuntarily spreading her thighs in invitation. She was savoring the
hardness rubbing her, as he slowly began parting her lips with his tongue,
sliding in deeper with each stroke. She lifted her hips higher off the bed
this time, presenting herself with passionate abandon.
Suddenly both motions
stopped. The unknown object lay still on her warm mound. She heard creaking
and a phone taken from its cradle. “Who the fuck is he calling now?” she
There was a beep which was
probably the number to get a line out of the room. There was another beep,
then 2 sets of 3 beeps followed by 4 beeps. It must be long distance. Then
she heard the receiver faintly hissing by her ear, as his tongue returned to
worshipping her lower lips with loving caresses. The object on her clit no
longer moved, but she felt his fingers on her abdomen as he firmly pressed
it onto her with the palm of his hand. She now longed for friction from the
He continued his oral
attention to her, now thrusting his tongue deeply between her lips, as she
spread her thighs and rose herself against the pressure of his hand holding
“the object” down to her clit. The receiver continued to hiss as she
anticipated her oncoming orgasm. She moaned softly as her loins started to
flush at the point of no return.
It was then she heard the
call going through. It rang once in her ear completely… Before his cell
phone began vibrating between his palm and her swollen clitoris. She
immediately realized what he’d done. The surprise of the unexpected
vibration with his tongue plunging her caused spasms of pleasure to blossom
from her lower body. Her moaning was now in full voice as she desperately
tried not to buck her ass off the bed too high, disturbing his attention to
her needy pussy. She reached her climax, and then lay there panting hot
breath on both of them as he stroked her firm thighs, kissing her stomach.
When her breathing had
returned to normal, she slowly reached up to the mask, pulled it back on her
head and looked down at him. With a very satisfied smile, she asked him “Now
where the fuck did you learn THAT?”
Ruthless -Sommer Marsden
"You have to be arrogant as hell to be a musician." That’s what Mickey
always told me. "You have to be rude, abrupt, conceited, and cruel.
Ruthless. All the things your mama told you never to be. You don’t have to
be that way off stage, cher, but you sure as hell have to do it on stage.
It’s the magnetism that gets ‘em."
Mickey Devereaux had taught
me how to play the guitar when I was seven. Had me belting out Janice Joplin
tunes at eight. At nine, he took me to see a live Elvis Impersonator show in
Vegas. I saw eighty-one Elvis performers that weekend.
He was my mother’s long-time lover. My forever friend. A starving musician
who embraced a little girl’s dream and taught her what she needed to make it
I took a deep breath and
surveyed the crowd. I was up soon. My rendition of "Me and Bobby McGee"
would be in memory of Mickey. Instead of letting his recent death destroy my
chances of winning the Rockville Music Festival, I was going to work it.
"Let ‘em hear it in your
voice, cher," he’d coo. Mickey was from Louisiana and never called me Katie.
It was always "cher" instead. It was how he showed me that he loved me. "Let
‘em feel what’s in your gut. In your soul. If you’re hurting, let ‘em know.
If you feel like your insides are being torn out, it should come through
loud and clear in your voice. If you’re happy, keep it to yourself." It was
his little joke. Mickey believed most music came from pain. It soothed the
ragged soul and brought the wounded together to heal. Music was the best
salve for a broken heart.
Tears welled up, but I
managed to fend them off. I would use my pain to make my performance better.
I would beat Dean King if it killed me.
"We’re taking a quick break,
folks. The equipment needs a little TLC. Grab a beer and stand by. Next up
we have Dean King all the way from southern California, and a local gal,
The Mudd was in memory of
Mickey, too, Mississippi mud cake and stories of the bayou having shaped my
childhood and my career tales of huge mutant alligators stalking their prey
through the muddy swamps.
"I’d say your name is mud,
kid, but I bet you’ve heard that one a million times."
Dean King was a pig. A hot
pig, mind you, but a swine nonetheless. I took in the sneer, the cold blue
eyes, and the naked torso. He was as beautiful and cold as royalty. His
dirty blond hair hung coyly over one eye. Broad, sun-browned shoulders
tapered to a slim waist that accentuated a six-pack stomach. His ancient
blue jeans hung seductively on his slim hips. They had been loved and abused
into fitting him perfectly in all the right places. Button fly to boot.
"The name’s on purpose,
jackass," I said, trying to hide my anger. The fact that I could hear the
repressed tears in my voice didn’t help.
"Dean! Katie! We have a
little problem." George Martinez came running across the field, swimming
through a sea of tightly packed bodies. The festival was mobbed. The humid
air had sweat running in rivulets from under his black hair. His eyes
reminded me of a spooked horse. "I know you should be up any minute, but we
have a few speakers down. We’re working as fast as we can to fix the ones
that can be fixed and replace the ones that can’t. Even so, yâ’all have
about a half-hour to kill. Maybe more." George’s face was half fear, half
"No problem," I sighed. What
could you do?
"This is ridiculous!" Dean
shouted. "We’re ready now, George. Fix it. Fast." Then he stomped off like
an overgrown toddler.
"Sorry," I said to George.
"No, it isn’t. He’s an idiot.
A spoiled one."
"That’s why they love him,"
George said with a small smile and quickly retreated to do his job.
My heart kicked into
overdrive. I was so angry I could hear my blood pounding in my ears.
I found Dean in a trailer
designated for the talent.
"Just who the hell do you
think you are?" I said, slamming the flimsy door. "That man is working his
ass of to make us look good, and you have a temper tantrum?"
The heat and the anger had my
black T-shirt stuck to my skin. I struggled for a deep breath in the
confined space. Dean just gave me his signature looks the devil with blue
eyes. I pulled my hair off my neck to compensate for my sudden, irrational
urge to kiss him. At the same time, I wanted so desperately to slap him my
palm itched. Adrenaline does funny things to a body. Musicians thrive on it.
It’s the drug of choice.
"See something you like?" he
said with a smile. "You know you’re pretty when you’re pissed."
"Come on, Katie. I know that
look. That’s the look we work for out there. It’s the whole point of being
I backed up a step but
collided with the small table in the kitchenette. My eyes took in the fly
buttons of his jeans. It was obvious Dean was riding the same high I was.
Feeling the same tension.
"You want me to open my
I shook my head, not trusting
"Sure you do."
He moved like a cat. Slow,
leisurely, and nothing but confidence. "Pretty Katie with the red hair.
Pretty Katie who wants to fuck." I did. It was true. I hated him but wanted
to slide my hands along the naked flesh my eyes had already traveled. He
stopped a few inches from me. Not close enough to touch me, but close enough
for me to feel his presence. His energy mingled with mine. A phantom caress.
I didn’t want to be caressed, though. I wanted to fuck. Ride the high and
the nerves and the pain. I wanted release. Hooking my hand in the waistband
of his jeans, I pulled him forward and took his mouth with mine. I did it
swiftly so my brain would override my need.
"Pretty Katie," he growled
again against my mouth. Nudging my urgent tongue with his. I kissed him
again, undoing the first button and giving a forceful tug. The rest released
on their own. Taking his cock in my hand, I stood on tiptoe and bit his ear.
I wasn’t gentle.
"That hurt but it hurt just right," he whispered. He grabbed my ass and
pulled me flush with his erection. My hand stayed trapped between us. "Take
off your pants, Katie Mudd."
"You take them off," I
countered and dipped my head to his chest. I rolled my tongue around one
nipple then the other. Finishing off with a hard bite. A noise escaped him.
Not a sigh, not a growl. It was low and primitive. My jeans puddled around
my ankles. My thong quickly followed. Dean pinned me against the flimsy
table and dropped to his knees.
"Peeling the peach," he
laughed, parting my labia. His long, pink tongue claimed my clit in an
instant, sending a crackle of electricity through my center. My stomach
clenched and the feeling in my limbs faded. My being became focused on the
sensation of the soft wetness sliding over my swollen sex. My cunt
responded, contracting and relaxing. When his lips covered me fully, and his
rigid tongue entered my slit, I gripped the edges of the table.
Lips snaked a trail over my
hipbones, across my belly, between my breasts. His hands pinned my hips
against his hips. His warm, smooth cock was captured between us. He sucked
my nipple hard enough to make my breath hitch. Just enough pain to propel
"Just fuck me, Dean." I was
ready. My mind singing Bobby McGee. Janice’s sweet, sultry voice filling my
head. I needed this to make my performance real. To abate some of my sadness
and spark the soul that could be heard in my voice. I needed to let go of my
loss for the moment and get lost in pure sensation.
"Gladly. In here and out
there on stage. You know I’ll win," he hissed, and plunged into me. The
feeling of him sliding solidly into me overrode his words. I knew I would
win. This was just a bonus. A catharsis to open the way. Busted flat in
Baton Rouge, waiting for a train...
"In your dreams," I laughed.
I rocked against him, clutching his ass, pulling him forward. I wanted to
devour him, fuck him, punch him, and beat him. I felt I would die before
letting Dean win this competition. I would win. For me. For Mickey. I slid
one finger into his ass and he faltered for a moment.
"Can’t take it?" I said,
pumping against him as I held him tight. I allowed no room for retreat or
"You could give a guy
warning," he said, his eyes hooded and angry.
"You like it," I spat. "Admit
"True, Katie. With you, I’d
like just about anything." I hooked my finger in response, searching for
that magical spot that would push him over the edge. Make him lose control.
I wanted him at my mercy, panting while he came. His breath caught and he
shoved me onto my back. The table swayed and creaked but held.
"Be that way," he growled and
shoved my knees up high. He pushed me back with enough force to elevate my
hips while he plunged in and out of me. His cock had found my G-spot and was
stroking it incessantly. Smooth, swift pressure that had sweat pooling in my
belly button, running from my temples. His face a mask of anger punctuated
by an icy stare.
"You didn’t make me let go,"
I cooed. "I have long arms for a girl." I wiggled my finger to prove it and
his stroking became less rhythmic, more frantic. "Dammit, Katie!" He pushed
my knees outward, forcing his hands under my ass, tilting me up in his
determination to win.
The beginnings of orgasm,
like a huge knot of tension, uncoiled with fluid ease. My face flushed with
heat and radiated through my torso, teasing my nipples into full erection.
"Faster, asshole." I had given up on outdoing him I just wanted to come. My
hands fluttered restlessly over his chest, down his stomach. I stroked over
his hipbones as he buried his face against my neck. He kissed me there
My body went rigid at the
same moment he stiffened. We had a brief moment of eye contact before I was
lost in my orgasm. Comforting ripples of warmth and euphoria. I felt my body
relax completely, my belly flutter with anticipation as a second, smaller
flood coursed through me. I allowed myself to get lost in it for a moment.
It drowned out the music outside, the fear in my heart, the anger at losing
my friend. I gave one gentle stroke of his hair before putting my guard back
up. "We’d better go," I whispered, calming my ragged breath.
"Get on then." His eyes were
a little gentler when he looked at me. His swagger a little less severe.
"You’re up!" George shouted
as we exited the trailer.
"Let’s do it," Dean said
giving me a wink.
"We just did."
"Good luck, Mudd," he said
before taking the stage.
"Good luck, jackass."
On stage, Dean’s sultry voice
belted out Otis Redding’s heartbreaking words. Words of sadness,
desperation, and lost love.
*I’ve been loving you too
long to stop now...*
As usual, the women in the
crowd were practically swooning. With his lean, taut figure and rebel good
looks, Dean could always get the women into a frenzy. All the girls want to
do him. All the men want to be him.
I watched his performance and
couldn’t help being impressed. His voice caressed each word as he moved
across the stage with liquid grace. But was there a little less confidence
in his movements, a little less bravado to his sneer? I was sure of it, and
I laughed out loud, gladly taking credit for taming his bad-boy ways.
When it was my turn, I took a
deep breath and offered up a prayer more to Mickey than to God. Please ...
Oh, please let me get out what’s in my heart and soul. Let them hear what
I’m feeling. Let me do right by you.
It’s hard not to show your
heart and soul when you sing Janice Joplin, but I managed to turn it up a
notch. Her infamous words slid out on my voice, all whiskey and cigarettes
and hard living. Pictures flashed in my mind, backwoods roads, swamps and
bayous, Elvis impersonators and tales of mutant alligators, all the memories
that Mickey had tattooed in my heart and mind. Above all else, though, the
great and treasured love he had for me.
*Freedom’s just another word
for nothin’ left to lose,
And nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free,
Feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues,
And buddy, that was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.*
I had nothing left to lose. I
felt free. I let it all pour out of me. The pain. The loss. The fear. It was
sweetened with just a hint of victory and power. The last note escaped me
like a sigh, and my body went limp. I was thrilled to be done, but sad it
was over. There was dead silence for a moment. A tear slid down my cheek as
the crowd rose up with an explosion of applause. It sounded like rolling
thunder before a summer storm. I took my bow, knowing in my heart that I had
won. Mickey and I had taken this contest me doing the singing, him as the
When I accepted the winner’s
trophy and my check, I dedicated my win to Mickey Devereaux but I made sure
to thank Dean, "For giving me what I needed to win. In there and out here."
When I packed up my car, I
found the button fly jeans on my seat. The note read, See you at the next
show, Katie with the red hair.
To see more of
Sommer Marsden's work
Trick- Cassie Exline
He pulled until the line worked its way between
her pussy lips. One more tug and it was rubbing tightly against her clit. He
strummed the rope and licked her bare thigh.
She sighed. The vibration made her nerves tingle,
and caused an orgasm to build.
He walked behind her and tugged on the same length
of rope until it rode up her crack. He pulled it back like he was drawing a
string on a bow and let go. It stung her skin, but the sensation was
wonderful. She bit her lip, trying not to moan out loud.
Now he was able to stroke her clit and her ass at
the same time. Like a musician, he strummed the rope, and like magic, her
She closed her eyes and enjoyed each vibration his
strong fingers created. Thunder roared in her ears, and she rode the waves
of ecstasy from her magical orgasm.
* * *
A very nervous Dorcas made her way backstage to
the dressing rooms of the Magic House Theatre. As she walked down the
hallway, she glanced from right to left reading each name plaque on the many
doors. The theater was used by fifty magicians to practice their acts, to
perform in front of peers and to feed off the energy of each other as they
searched for new ideas to wow their audiences. She found the one she
wanted—Dante the Magnificent—and stopped.
Dorcas swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in
her throat, and knocked on the door. She could hear someone murmuring but
wasn't sure what was said. She hesitated.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a man peered at
her. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying! Get out of here!"
"Sir, I'm not selling anything. I heard you're
looking for an assistant and maybe a protégé. I would like to be that
"You want to be a magician?"
"Yes, sir. I do. More than anything."
"Humpf!" He eyed her from head to toe. "You look
like a kid. How old are you?"
"Guess you're legal." He snorted. "Come on in,
"Thank you." She followed him inside and looked
around the room. There were posters and photos of Dante covering every inch
of available wall space. The photos were fascinating. His hair was still the
same—dark, thick and wavy. Even in pictures, his presence commanded respect.
No doubt his height and the cape were two of the main reasons he was
Dorcas blinked. "Yes, sir." She sat on the nearest
"Do you have any idea how much hard work this type
of career takes? This isn't some glamour job, you know." He paced back and
forth in front of her. "It's hard, and there's a lot of stress. I know,
because I've been in the business almost longer than you've been alive."
Dorcas didn't say a word, just nodded as he
talked. She didn't want to interrupt this great man who she had admired.
"It takes hours and hours of dedicated practice.
If I were to take you on as my protégé, you'd have to be committed to this.
This is a full-time job! I don't perform just on weekends or at some Lion's
Club function. Do you understand me, girl?"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
He sat down and stared at Dorcas. "Stand up. I
want to get a good look at you."
Without thinking, she arched her eyebrows. She
couldn't stop her reaction but still turned as he requested.
"I saw that look. Don't spout any women's rights
bullshit either. We work on stage. People want to look at pretty people."
"Am I ugly?"
For the first time, he chuckled and sounded like a
regular person. "You're very easy on the eyes. Do you want to hear my honest
"The truth can hurt, you know. You still want to
Her heart pounded in her chest. She was unable to
speak, afraid of what he would say, but once again she nodded.
"Changes have to be made. For example, the blonde
hair has to go. Dye it black, a bluish black."
Dorcas bristled. "What's wrong with being blonde?"
"Nothing. You're a beautiful, young woman. Men
will love watching you on stage. You look like an assistant."
"I don't understand. Isn't that good?"
"Yes, if you want to remain an assistant. But you
said you wanted to become a magician. If you want people to take you
seriously, you must look the part." He stood and walked around her. "My
first impression is you're nothing but a fragile piece of crystal. Of
course, I wouldn't mind ogling you all day long. Any man would. But,
if you looked more dramatic, you would make me lean up in my seat, waiting,
anticipating what you would do next. I love your eyes. They're dark and
stormy. With those eyes and black hair, you'd have an air of mystery and of
danger, and that's what you want. You want your audience breathless, unsure
of you're next move. It's all about illusion."
"I'll dye my hair."
"Keep it long. Don't cut it. You can do much more
with long hair than short."
"Let me ask you something?"
She blinked and swallowed. "Okay."
"In your opinion, who's the greatest magician
"Houdini," Dorcas responded quickly. "Harry
Houdini, whose real name was Eric Weiss, born in 1874 in Wisconsin. He was
the master of escape, absolutely the best at..."
Dante held up his hand, interrupting her, and
said, "Okay, I know my history, too. Who else?"
"The more notables were David Blain and Harry
Blackstone, that's father and son. Later on, there was David Copperfield and
"Did you notice who you didn't say?"
Her heart was racing so fast she thought she might
faint. Had she missed someone of great importance? She had said Houdini.
"No, sir. Who did I miss?"
"Not miss exactly. It's just that not one person
you named was a female." With a smug look on his face, he crossed his arms.
"Not one woman."
"Oh." She shifted from one foot to the other.
"What does that mean?"
"That means you'll have to work twice as hard as a
man to make it in this business. You're not the first female wanna-be
magician." Dante looked at her and frowned. "What's your name girl?"
His face brightened, and he nodded. "Dante and
Dorcas. Nice. They sound good together."
She smiled. Her name just might be included in the
billing. "My family calls me Dory."
He waved his hand, disregarding her childish
nickname. "Okay, Dorcas. Like I said, this job is hard work, and it will
take hours and hours of practice. In your case, I think being a female might
be a bonus. There are a lot of possibilities for us to get an edge over the
others. Can you commit to all it will take?"
"I am looking for a protégé, someone who will take
over in say, ten years. But whoever I choose will have to make lots of
sacrifices. You're not going to want to quit and have babies are you?"
"Oh, no," Dorcas said. "I'm very serious about
wanting to do this." She cleared her throat. "Uh, sir? Can I ask you a
"By all means."
"You said you wanted someone who will take over in
ten years, but you're just a young man."
Dante chuckled. "That wasn't a question, but I'm
almost twice your age."
"Still, young in this profession."
"If we do come to a workable arrangement, I will
tell you my reason."
"Fair enough," she said.
"Another thing, I shout a lot. If you're going to
get upset and run off the stage in tears every time I raise my voice, we
"I promise I won't run off the stage."
"Humpf," Dante grunted. "I don't know about this."
"Why? Please give me a chance."
"I've trained three candidates for this job. As
soon as they had learned my tricks, they took off. Later, each claimed the
new act, which I taught them, was their own. A lot of work goes into
training new people, but coming up with new feats of magic is draining. What
guarantee do I have that you won't do the same?"
"I'll do whatever you ask."
Dante sat back in his chair and rubbed his goatee.
"Not that I doubt your word, but do you have any collateral?"
She frowned. "Collateral?"
"Certificates of deposit in the bank? Family
inheritance?" He chuckled.
"I have the deed to the family home," Dorcas said.
"Will that be enough?"
He eyed the young woman before asking, "You're
willing to sign over the family home to do this?"
"I will put it up as collateral, proving that I
have every intention of doing as I said. If I don't, the estate is yours."
Her voice was soft but filled with conviction.
"You realize that I'll want a lawyer to draw up
papers stating what you just said, and you will have to sign them? Our
agreement will be legal and binding."
She flipped back her golden curls. "Of course."
He nodded and stared at her, frowning. "I've
gotten ahead of myself. I'm well aware that this is short notice, but I need
to see you perform a trick."
Without missing a beat, Dorcas had a half dollar
walking back and forth across her knuckles. Then she flipped her hand,
causing the coin to fly into the air. She caught it in the palm of her hand,
closed her fist, brought it to her full lips, and blew on it. She
immediately opened her hand and revealed her palm was empty.
Dante leaned up in his chair.
Doing magic always turned her on. She smiled,
knowing her nipples had hardened.
"I'm impressed Dorcas. That trick was performed
flawlessly for someone so young. You're not wearing long sleeves which are
the obvious give away." His brows furrowed.
Dorcas beamed from his praise and was pleased
she'd piqued his curiosity on how she had done it. "Of course, it's quite
easy to do when people's eyes are focused on my chest."
He cleared his throat. Red crept up his neck.
"How soon do I start?"
He sat back and smiled. "Have you ever seen me
"Yes, I have, lots of times."
"How is that possible?" Dante asked. "You're very
"From the age of fifteen, I worked for a magic
supply store. The owner had tons of videotapes of every magician that had
ever performed. His goal was to have them all. I used to watch a couple on a
daily basis. One day, I saw you perform." Dorcas sat down. "The way you move
is great, but it's your voice and eyes which captivated me."
"We are still talking magic aren't we?"
It was her turn to feel embarrassed. "I used to
close my eyes just to listen to you talk, replaying the tape over and over.
Your voice is commanding. It's a powerful tool. Then your eyes. There are
times when it seems like clouds are swirling across your smoky gray eyes.
It's amazing to see."
"My act has changed a lot since you've seen those
"But of course," Dorcas said and shrugged. "All of
us have to change with the times. When do I start?"
"As soon as we've signed the papers."
She nodded. "You don't trust me. I understand."
"To be on top, we must work hard and have an edge.
But it takes a lot of hard work. You will have to trust me."
"I'll do whatever you say."
* * *
Dorcas met Dante at her attorney's office.
The lawyer reacted as if Dorcas was out of her
mind for signing over her house. "Young lady, do you have any idea what you
are doing?" Mr. White asked.
"Yes, sir, I do."
"You're risking your entire inheritance on a
"I'm not risking anything," Dorcas said. "I have
every intention of following through with the arrangement. This is not a
whim; it's what I want to do with my life."
Mr. White shook his head but had the papers drawn
up and notarized. It was official. If Dorcas defaulted in their agreement,
Dante owned her family home.
* * *
Dorcas and Dante returned to the theater and went
in Dante's dressing room to discuss their act.
"Now that you've proven you're serious," Dante
said. "I'll share something with you. Follow me."
He led the way, and they were soon sitting at the
back of the auditorium watching an act rehearse. "I take what I do very
seriously," Dante whispered.
"No, you don't, Dorcas." He shifted in his seat so
he was looking straight at her. "This is all mine." He gestured with the
wave of his arm. "I own the Magic House Theatre. This is my
"Ohhhh." She had no idea what to say.
"The problem is this is what is known as a white
elephant." He sighed and focused his attention on the stage. "You do know
what a white elephant is?"
"Yes. It takes every penny you have to keep it
Dorcas studied his silhouette. "Is that why you
wanted me to sign over my house?"
"No-o-o-o!" Dante shouted.
A loud crash echoed from the stage.
Dante stood up and called out to the performers,
"Sorry, for our interruption. We'll leave you to rehearse in peace."
He glared at Dorcas. "Let's discuss this in
She followed him, feeling like a scolded child.
The moment his dressing room door closed behind
them, he turned to stare at her. "Do you really think I'm after your silly
Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times
before she finally said, "I didn't until you told me about the theater. I,
He dropped onto the nearest chair and sighed. "I
guess it did come across that way. The reason I told you about owning the
theatre is to explain the reason for the type of magic I'm currently
Her mouth opened and closed again, but she
He continued, "I figured you couldn't possibly
have seen me in action recently because as I've mentioned, I don't perform
for the Lion's Club."
Dante paced back and forth. "Rich people will pay
any amount you demand if you put on the kind of show they want. When someone
first approached me with the suggestion, I tossed them out on their ass.
Then the taxes came due. The electric bill was overdue, as well as the
water, sewer, and phones." He plopped down again. "My grandfather founded
this place as a magician's retreat, a place where all magicians could come
and be with their own. It's hard out there in the real world. Grandpa said
Houdini was here when the place first opened its doors." Dante pointed to
the door of his dressing room. "Houdini christened this very door with a
bottle of champagne. He performed on that stage out there. This place has a
lot of history."
Dorcas refrained from asking questions.
"I'm sure my grandfather is turning in his grave
knowing what I'm doing, but it's the only way I know to get the kind of
money it takes to keep this place in operation."
"Maybe you should tell me what you're doing."
"Remember the conditions of the document you just
signed, all right?"
"It's called erotic magic."
"I see," she said.
"It means it's more of a show about fucking than
magic, simulated fucking, but it looks like the real thing." Dante's gaze
never left her face. "It means we wear next to nothing while we perform.
Every movement we make is like we're making love to each other on stage."
"Oh." Her nipples were hard as little pebbles.
"Ready to back out?" he taunted.
"Do we do any magic at all?"
"It's magical in nature, but there are so many
other things going on, no one notices the magic." He sighed. "It's a shame,
but these rich people pay small fortunes to watch. I can't lose what my
family started. It's my legacy."
Dorcas nodded. "When do we start?"
Dante jumped to his feet and hurried to her. He
pulled her from her seat and embraced her. "With you in my act, we'll make a
* * *
When Dorcas and Dante rehearsed on stage, no one
was allowed to watch. Dante claimed it was to protect the secrets of his new
act. If anyone doubted him, no one ever said it to his face. Being the owner
of the theater had its advantages.
At performances, Dorcas had to wear the skimpiest
costume imaginable. But when they rehearsed, she wore panties, socks, and a
long-sleeved top. Her hair was now as dark as Dante had wanted, and she
French-braided it every day. The braid hung down the middle of her back. She
wore cherry red lipstick and pearl stud earrings, even during rehearsal.
The first time she had had an orgasm on stage,
she'd been embarrassed. It was a small audience but a memorable performance
for a couple of reasons. Dante had given over the reigns of head magician to
her as he took on the role of her assistant. She'd dressed in top hat and
tails and wore a micro mini and four inch stilettos. Her black jacket was
sleeveless—like a vest except with tails—and used only one button to hold
the sides together. It was cut low to show off the contours of her breasts.
Dorcas had three stands placed in front of her;
each had a metal canister with a dome-shaped lid. She lifted the first top
to show the contents—a plastic bird.
Dante lifted her skirt and rubbed her crotch.
Dorcas replaced the lid, tapped her wand against
the metal, and removed the top to display a very alive white dove.
On his knees, Dante removed her panties, releasing
her pussy just as Dorcas freed the bird. The applause was thunderous.
Dante massaged her legs and his lips moved closer
and closer to the center of her being.
Dorcas trembled with anticipation, but moved on to
the second canister. She raised the lid and showed the onlookers a yellow
rubber duck. She replaced the cover, tapped and again removed the lid to
reveal a quacking yellow duckling. She bent over to gently place the baby
bird on the floor. The duckling waddled off stage right on cue.
While Dorcas was bent over, Dante took the
opportunity to enter a finger in her pussy, followed by a second one and
then a third.
Dorcas stood, widened her stance, and proceeded to
the third canister. The audience was riveted to their seats. Dorcas's juices
were trickling down her leg. She took a deep breath. She wanted Dante, alone
and completely, but the show must go on.
Once more, she raised a lid. She scooped up a
handful of flower petals, and wiggled her fingers, allowing the petals to
fall slowly back into the canister.
Dante's fingers opened her wide and his tongue
scooped up her juices.
Glorious sensations coursed through her body, and
Dorcas almost dropped the lid. Metal clanged loudly against metal. Her body
quivered. The audience roared.
Dante's fingers pumped inside of her as his teeth
grazed her clit.
She tapped the lid with her wand, and with a shaky
hand, she removed the lid to reveal a bouquet of yellow roses.
Dante continued his tongue-fucking.
Her orgasm washed over her, flooding her with
ecstasy. Dorcas stretched her arms above her head, fingers reaching for the
heavens. As if planned, sparks shot out of her wand like a Fourth of July
The audience gave them a standing ovation.
Thereafter, Dorcas looked forward to each
* * *
It wasn't unusual that while they worked, Dante's
hands would touch all of Dorcas's body—every part, every crevice. Dorcas
wanted so much more, that on several occasions, she almost begged him to
stick his cock inside her. She had ceased worrying about the wrong and right
of things. She wanted Dante, and she would do anything to have all of him.
He finally acquiesced without her needing to beg. A surprise show. A
shocking show when Dante didn't simulate making love to her but actually
fucked her. She still tingled when she remembered...
Her outfits were held together with Velcro tabs
like those that strippers wore. Dante came up from behind and yanked off her
costume panties. The audience responded with thunderous applause.
While she pulled a rabbit out of a hat, Dorcas
stood with legs apart to show them her pussy. Dante pulled his cock out of
Catcalls and whistles filled the theater.
When she bent over to pick up the cards Dante had
"accidentally" dropped, he propped his dick at her entrance and nuzzled it
inside of her.
She was wet and more than ready for him. She
moaned as he filled her pussy and pounded into her.
The applause was deafening.
They had never discussed actual penetration, but
Dorcas had been craving it. She forgot about the cards and the voyeurs and
concentrated on every sensation Dante created as he thrust in and out. Her
orgasm was so intense, it rumbled through her and caused her legs to shake.
If Dante hadn't held her hips as he fucked, she might have fallen. He
pounded over and over until he reached his climax and filled her with his
Without missing a beat, she picked up the cards
and stood. His softened cock slipped out. She waved her arm as if she had
just done a feat of magic and was greeted with more thunderous applause.
She wondered if the audience noticed his spunk
trickling down her leg as she clicked across the stage in her stilettos.
Dante did and dropped to his knees in front of her
to lick it off. He licked and sucked his way up to her pussy. Dorcas put one
of her legs on his shoulder to give him better access. The crowd oohed and
As he tongue-fucked her, she arched her back. Her
braid swept across the floor, swaying like a pendulum. His fingers replaced
his tongue as he moved his mouth to her clit. He pumped with his fingers and
pressed her clit with his tongue. Her second orgasm was as debilitating as
the first. She thought she would fall, but Dante held her tight.
After that night, neither pretended they didn't
want to fuck and made sure it was included in each show.
* * *
The bookings and money rolled in as word traveled
about the performances of Dante and Dorcas. Night after night, they upped
the ante in their performances, combining exotic magic tricks with sex. The
latest idea was with rope.
Since Dorcas admired Houdini, Dante came up with
an escape trick. Dorcas was naked except for pasties, which Dante would
later remove with his teeth. She was tied to a pink crushed-velvet mat and
secured in place by rope. The platform was propped at an angle so the
audience could watch her struggle to get free. As planned, her bare breasts
jiggled and the rope rode between her legs and her bare ass.
Dante continued to pull until the rawhide worked
its way between her pussy lips. One last tug and the rope snuggled tightly
against her clit.
He strummed the rope and licked her bare thigh.
The vibration made her nerves tingle and an orgasm
began to build.
He walked behind her and tugged on the same length
of rope until it rode up her crack. He drew it back like a string on a bow
and let go. It stung her skin, but the sensation was wonderful. She bit her
lip, trying to hold off her moans.
He stroked her clit and ass at the same time. Like
a musician, he strummed the rope, and like magic, her body floated.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed each vibration his
strong fingers created. Thunder roared in her ears, and she rode the waves
of ecstasy from her magical orgasm.
Nothing had ever felt as good.
* * *
After sometime, Dorcas could not ignore the fact
that she and Dante had made love numerous times on stage, but never off
stage. She decided it was time for a private talk.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Don't tell me you want
to quit already?"
"If I did, would you take my inheritance from me?"
"If I said yes, would you stay?"
She bit her bottom lip. "Well, if I don't just say
it, we'll be here all day exchanging questions."
Dante frowned. "You want to quit, don't you?"
"On the contrary, I want to be your wife and lover
Her bold statement seemed to catch him off guard.
"Let's stop playing games, Dante. I know you love
me, and I love you."
"No. You're confused."
"I'm not confused. I love you."
He shook his head. "Besides our age difference, it
"Don't start with the age bullshit. Outside of
that, what could possibly be wrong?" Dorcas asked.
"I'm going to die," Dante blurted out.
She gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her
hands. Tears stung her eyes.
He went to her and held her close. "I'm sorry for
saying it like that, but I'll be dead by the time I reach forty-five."
"How do you know when you're going to die?"
"Every male in my family has died at the age of
forty-five. Every single one."
"Are you telling me that you don't have a disease
but are making an assumption based solely on your family history?"
"It's not just an assumption. It's fact. There's
no reason for me to be any different than my ancestors."
"Oh damn it all to hell." Dorcas plopped down on a
chair. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "We have a strong family
history of cancer. But so far it has missed me."
"You're still young."
She shrugged and sighed. "We can't live our lives
on what may or may not happen. Do you love me?"
"Of course, I love you." Dante knelt beside her,
gathered both of her hands and kissed them. "I've never fucked any assistant
before you. I've never wanted to."
"Then, we'll be married."
"No, we won't. I won't make you a widow at such a
young age. Besides, I'm too old for you."
She leaned in to kiss his lips. "Then you explain
that to our son."
He jerked back. "Our what?"
"Our son. I'm going to have your baby."
His eyes grew as huge as the half dollars they
used in the act. "I'm going to die."
"You don't know that for sure. And you won't talk
like that in front of our child. I won't have it." She stood up so suddenly
she knocked him backwards, and he landed flat on his ass. "I'm not hiding,"
she went on. "I don't want my child to be known as the bastard of Dante the
Magnificent. Don't forget, our son will also be a magician."
"I won't allow him to be called by such a slur. We
will be married, and he will bear my name."
"As far as our ages, when we're together, there is
no difference. You're a man and I'm a woman. I love you, Dante. Not your age
or just your body, but what's inside. The packaging is nice, but I love the
man inside of it."
* * *
They were married. If anyone thought their age was
an issue, no one said it to their faces. Twins were born seven months later.
"I have a son and a daughter. What will we name
them?" Dante asked.
Dorcas kissed each tiny head as she said their
names. "Ramon and Ramona. Perfect names for a brother and sister act."
"Excellent choices!" He leaned over to kiss the
head of each baby and then his wife's lips.
"Until she is old enough, we will call her Ra-Ra."
He stiffened, and then nodded. "Of course, my
"We're also returning to the magic we were born to
perform. The other type of magic will only be for our personal pleasure."
He frowned. "Sweetheart, I understand why you're
concerned, but the theater will go under without that money."
"My darling man, you've never noticed the sleight
of hand I've pulled on you, have you?"
He drew back and asked, "What do you mean?"
"I've been skimming money off the top all this
time. I also had Mr. White, my lawyer who drew up those papers for us, to
help me invest the proceeds. And if necessary, I've got the house to sell,
which I'm currently renting out for more income. Mr. White is a great
lawyer. Anyway, thanks to his advice I've got quite a nice nest egg
accumulated for us."
"Don't look so shocked. I've had a crush on you
since I was sixteen years old. After performing with you, I fell totally in
love. I would have done anything you asked just to be part of your act. When
I realized why you needed the money so badly, I did my part for you, for us,
for our future."
"You tricked me!" Dante laughed. "All this time I
thought I had taken advantage of you. You're not one bit gullible! My
goodness kids, I do believe your mother is a better magician than your
father." He kissed Dorcas again and gazed into her eyes. "Let me ask you
something, my very smart wife. Did you know about the erotic magic before I
She looked down at the bundles in her arms.
Dante cupped her chin and lifted it. "I'll love
you no matter what you tell me. Please?"
Dorcas took a deep breath. "Yes, I knew about the
erotic magic. I was at a couple of your shows and watched you perform."
"You knew? You saw me doing that with ... with
"I watched you pretend to penetrate her. I was
there the night your assistant stomped off the stage and quit because you
wouldn't complete the act. That's how I knew you needed an assistant. I
wanted that someone to be me."
"You're full of surprises, my darling. What a
wonderful mother to have for my children."
"Am I forgiven for my illusion of innocence?" she
"I suppose so. After all, you have given me two
beautiful babies. I could and would forgive you anything," Dante said and
gathered his son into his arms. "Are you going to remain the star of my
"You better believe it. Our children will grow up
watching us perform real magic on stage until it becomes their turn to take
over." Dorcas smiled at him. "I have a feeling you're going to live a long
"Maybe you're right. All the family traditions
have been tested. We've never had a girl born into the family, and none of
the males have had a wife who was a magician. Thanks to you, I might live to
a ripe old age."
"I've been so tied up in knots worrying about this
day. Now that it's behind us, I can relax. From now on, I can look forward
to a happy life with my family, and who knows, maybe giving you thousands of
"Maybe millions, if you're the magician I think
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