A Secret of Witchcraft

Still panting, I walked toward the floor to ceiling window. I was nude, but I didn't think anyone passing on the street would look up. I thought of half a dozen desires I'd like fulfilled. I had time left to cast another spell. Of all the thoughts I could have had, it was a craving for companionship that washed over me. I suddenly felt alone and lonely watching the foot traffic below. Instead of brewing my next fantasy or even starting a slow simmer for later, I rated each person below for their cuddling potential.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur as I cross-checked student enrollment forms at my desk. I didn't feel like going to class, but Calder and Dr. Henri let me in as a favor. My parents raised me not to scorn a gift. The new lesson involved drawing my own reflection in a mirror. Everyone else was working away while I stared at a blank page and the blank face in the mirror. In desperation, I threw everything Ms. Cleft said to the wind and embraced Calder's scribble technique.

A tickle traveled down my arms to my fingertips until it was answered with a chill up my spine. I waved my arms and danced from foot to foot with charcoal in both hands. I decided to have fun. I was light as a feather. My eyes closed, and I remembered the excitement Calder had for my first drawing. I privately dedicated my self-portrait to Calder with Ms. Cleft's tiresome rules forgotten.

I opened my eyes to find half the class gathered behind me. Ms. Cleft stepped between me and the easel and lifted the drawing for close inspection. I hadn't properly seen it myself when the instructor held it up for the whole class. The sheet of paper showed something like me in a funhouse mirror. Well, at least it looked like a girl among the sloppy swirls and smudges.

Ms. Cleft's already grim expression hardened, and she said, "See me after class."

She sounded fearsome, and I worried she'd make me late to my meeting with George. On the other hand, George probably didn't have a watch, and he never actually agreed to meet. I sat on my hands for the rest of the class while everyone else worked. I daydreamed about possible places to find a key.

After class, Ms. Cleft said, "You're very talented."

I said, "Thank you," with one skeptical eyebrow raised.

"It's a good thing you aren't in this class for a grade. I'd still give you an F."

I looked bewildered.

"Your expressionist style is remarkable, but I'm trying to teach realism. You don't seem to understand light or form, and yet, your drawing mixes them. It's almost playful."

I didn't reply. I wasn't sure what she meant.

"Why did you close your eyes?"

I said, "I don't like seeing it half done. It looks silly until I'm done."

"Huh." Ms. Cleft shrugged and walked out of the room carrying my drawing.

I rushed home and arrived within a few minutes of the promised time. George startled me by walking out of a shadow.

"Hello George," I said with a forced smile. "Shall we find the key now?"

"He looked in the window," he grumbled. "What's wrong with the furniture?"

"The owner probably bought antiques and upholstered them. The ones in the shop were maybe half done when he shut down." I shrugged.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Anxious for a coincidence, I glanced up and my eyes settled on a burned out security light over my apartment door. "George," I said, "You're taller than me. See if you can reach up to the light. I think the key is behind the glass in a spot were there's no mortar between the bricks."

We trudged up the stairs to my door and George tried, but he couldn't reach it, so I said, "Kneel down. I'll stand on your shoulders to get it."

George went down to his hands and knees. I took off my sandals and stepped up onto his back. With tiptoes and a stretch, I managed to feel the object I knew would be there. I pawed at it with my finger until it fell to the ground with a clunk.

"Let's check it out." I hopped off George and slipped my feet back into the sandals. He strained to get back up, and I imagined I heard his bones creak with the effort.

Of course the key fit. The shop smelled musty. Electricity didn't work, but there was a bathroom with a toilet and sink, and water still ran. I put my hand on George's shoulder. He flinched but didn't move away. "George," I said, "I've been a little worried living upstairs alone. I'll feel much safer knowing you're right downstairs."

He sat on a dusty chair to consider my words. I turned to leave, and he said, "I'll protect you, Andrea."

"Thank you, George."

I climbed the stairs back to my apartment and flopped onto my futon. I needed to eat something, but my mind spun so many questions about witchcraft. I needed to let the thoughts settle. A reasonable person might have said it was just coincidence that the key existed at all and was hidden in the first place I looked. A reasonable person might have said I overheard the landlord talking about the key and forgot, or my subconscious noticed light glinting off the key.

But what about my expressionist drawings? I supposed the talent might have been there all along, and it was coincidence I used it right after casting a spell for it. How did the drawing work? I had no idea how each drawing would look until I saw it complete. They felt wrong until I added the last line. How did I know when they were finished?

I thought of a test even though I knew better. I planned spells for two improbable events - one to be cast the usual way, and the other to be cast after I cooled off. If one thing happened and not the other, it might be a clue. If both or neither happened, I'd learn something, too. Maybe all the effort of masturbating wasn't really needed at all. Of course, that didn't mean I had to stop, I reassured myself.

I stirred macaroni and cheese on the stove while I stoked the beginnings of a lusty fantasy. When my stomach was full and my bladder empty, I stripped and ran a bath. As I soaked, I stroked. Soft caresses raised almost invisible hairs on my arms. I splashed water on my breasts and enjoyed the warm and then cold sensation of it trickling down to my belly. I brushed my nipples with the palms of my hands. Tension built with each motion. I spread myself open under water and dragged the length of my middle finger over my erect clitoris - slowly. I felt even the ridges of my fingerprints. Then, the tiniest tug was explosive.

My spell was for the ability to draw in the realist style. My talented finger moved in a blur jacking up the intensity to almost the point of pain, and I shook so much when the wave of pleasure wained that I splashed water out of the tub.

I caught my breath and waited. My breathing eventually slowed. Only then, I tried to cast a spell for Ms. Cleft to decide she liked my "expressionist" style and didn't need me to be a "realist". I stayed in the bathtub until the water drained and my skin dried. My legs fell asleep, and my mind hardly worked. I considered sleeping where I was, but I mustered enough energy to flop naked on the futon before I closed my eyes.

I dreamt of a handsome blonde lover who lapped at the hood over my clitoris. I had obviously never given or received oral sex. My imagination was hazy and comprised of tidbits of descriptions from the novels I read. The dreamboat sucked and teased with powerful manic driving force that scared me. It excited me. In the dream, I rubbed the source of my power and tried to cast a spell, but the orgasm wouldn't come. My lover whimpered. His muscles rippled with strain. He pressed against me with ever more lust. Somehow, I knew, if I couldn't complete the spell, something bad would happen. The more frightened I got, the further my orgasm retreated.

I awoke crying with frustration. I only had ten minutes to get to work, I was naked, and I was sobbing with red eyes. The walk always took at least eight minutes. I threw on a wrinkled cotton dress, slipped on my sandals, and flew out my door. My inner thighs felt chafed, and I must have waddled more than walked. It took forever, but I arrived just as my boss unlocked the office door.

Fidgeting in my office chair did nothing to relieve frustration. My body ached to finish what it started. I grit my teeth and tried to distract myself with paperwork until lunch. I waited in the hallway restlessly squeezing my thighs until Calder walked out of his studio for class. The moment he entered the stairwell out of sight, I sprinted to his door counting my self lucky he never locked it.

I wondered what spell to cast and decided to make my orgasm a freebie gift to the universe. Not every one had to be a spell, right? Maybe that's what the dream meant? I should lay off the spells for a while? It was a bright day outside, but Calder's north facing window left the room shaded in comparison. The clarity outside brought clarity and some honesty to my thoughts. Casting spells was a lot more like asking for a favor than making a demand. Testing witchcraft was looking a gift horse in the mouth. I should be grateful spells worked at all.

Still standing, I spread my legs, bent slightly at the waist, and leaned forward against the glass of the window. The posture pressed my breasts hard enough to squish them. I bunched up the hem of my dress and absentmindedly stroked. I wanted to do something for someone, anyone, to show the universe my gratitude.

I imagined strangers could glance up and maybe see me, maybe not. Did someone do a double take? So far, nobody had stopped for a better look. I think they only noticed my face and breasts, and my dress still covered all but a hint of cleavage. I thought, "if only they knew what I'm doing. Would that man over there like to see? Or, am I being vain?"

I shoved both hands together between my thighs and rocked my pelvis to press hard against my hands. My first spells ever were cast by rocking against things. I didn't develop more subtle technique until much later. Still leaning against the glass, I returned to the origins of my craft. I forced distractions from my thoughts and concentrated on one thing: "I want this one to be for them." I offered myself - no spell, no desire, just my good will to busy oblivious people passing below the window.

The eventual climax disappointed me. At best, it scratched the frustrating itch I'd had since waking. My inner thighs were a damp mess, again. I wanted to shower, but that wasn't in the cards. I spent the rest of my lunch patting myself dry with scratchy paper towels in Calder's studio. I felt low. I felt ashamed of my behavior - like it was self indulgent and still ungrateful. Who was I kidding? Even my good will was really self serving penance, and my tame exhibition didn't make one person's day brighter.

In class, Ms. Cleft directed us to draw a statue posed in the center of the room. I recognized it as naked Venus standing with little Cupid clutching her leg like a toddler wanting to be lifted. I cringed because the instructor held Calder's fertility totem with two fingers at its tip as if it would burn her. She carried it for a while as she critiqued work until she finally set it down on a table. Why did she have it? I strained to remember if I cleaned the thing after using it the day before. I felt dirty, and not in a good way.

Would I be able to draw with realism? The answer, sadly, was no. Not every spell works, and spells that work can surprise me with unintended consequences. I told myself I was no worse off than before my experiment. I hoped I was no worse off. As I tried to draw only the shadows, a possibility occurred to me. I wondered if I could cast spells while having sex with another person? Would the spells be more or less powerful? I could give a partner pleasure. I would be grateful. Why hadn't I thought of that aspect before? An urge to experiment gripped me. "Don't tempt fate", I told myself, but I knew deep down there would be at least one more experiment.

The next day at work, I used the Academy's Internet to read about modern witches. Everything I found described witches working naked in groups. Maybe they did it for companionship. An article explained how a coven of witches worked "skyclad", meaning they danced naked. They shed their clothes to get connected with the Earth. Some covens hosted warlocks for special rituals. It all made sense to me. I felt ready to try cooperative sex magic.

I decided I needed a coven. I needed confidants, and dancing naked in the moonlight sounded fun. Casting spells with my coven would be awkward, but I didn't have to rush things. I could wait to see how comfortable I was when the time came. I could start with just one partner.

I supposed a lot of girls my age developed an interest in partner sex. The allure became obvious even though I hardly considered it before. Of course, my realization presented new problems. How do young women select partners? What mating rituals lead to the kind of sex I deemed appropriate for spell casting? I considered myself an ethical witch, so I had long ago forsworn using witchcraft to snare partners. I pondered my options and had an epiphany. It would be wrong to compel a man, but if he pursued me into my bed, it was his choice. I planned to rely on the special magic granted by nature to all young ladies. I felt sure I could entice a man without using my special talent. The only stumbling blocks were my ignorance and complete lack of feminine wiles.

Ms. Cleft played with the fertility totem during class again. She held its base in one hand and pet the shaft like she might pet a cat with her other hand. The motions were lewd enough to make me blush and squirm. Other students showed surprise, discomfort, or amusement. Ms. Cleft either didn't realize how her actions looked, or she didn't care.

We drew a chipped plaster replica of Michelangelo's David. The gouges and divots made it more interesting to me. My struggle with the realist style eased because I was drawing a subject that didn't look real. The broken stump of the statue's penis drew my eye. "What a coincidence," I thought. "On the day I develop an interest in sex with men, the first cock I see up close is broken."

My semi-realistic depiction of David became my favorite piece. The "expressionist" aspects were muted but not completely missing. I had closed my eyes a few times while drawing. All the muscles and body language jumped off the page to me.

Ms. Cleft's fingers slid over the wooden bumps that gave me so much pleasure. It aroused me in an indirect way. Recent memories of riding the totem produced a shadow of yummy sensations between my legs, but there was something else. I experienced a premonition of Ms. Cleft fucking the toy. It pleased me to imagine MY magic wand bringing her pleasure. I could almost feel a ghost cock plunging into her.

By the time class dismissed, I got so worked up that I couldn't delay long enough to walk home. I felt an urgent need to cast a spell. Students lingered in the classroom and the hallways. I considered the ladies' room down the hall, but I picked the supply closet in Ms. Cleft's classroom. Its door offered privacy. All I needed to do was slip inside without being noticed.

I knew my actions were impulsive. I should have been able to wait or at least think more clearly about the location. Spells were usually a deliberate action, but rare ones seemed eager to cast themselves. My pussy throbbed with a spell demanding attention. I wished to start my quest for coven members right away, and coincidentally, my wish was about to be granted.

I tore at my clothes until nothing shielded my moist crevasse from my fingers. As I sat on the cold dusty floor in the supply closet, the vision of Ms. Cleft fucking the totem returned. Somehow, I knew she lay on the floor of her studio right above the supply closet. She dragged the tip of the polished wooden penis over her breasts. Her legs parted.

A spectral shadow sagged heavy between my legs pulling my labia and clitoris with gravity. Ms. Cleft's hand wrapped around the shaft and squeezed my ghost cock. My eyes rolled back in my head. She thrust the cock into her pussy, and my hips bucked with matching rhythm. I savored the unanticipated sensation of pushing myself into a lover who accepted my invasion with enthusiasm. I felt my orgasm building as a kind of pressure needing release. My body vibrated with bizarre sensations of impending ghostly ejaculation.

I was not fond of Ms. Cleft, but the intimacy we shared created a bond between us. The spell I cast at the moment of our climax joined the two of us. I had just discovered the ritual for forming my coven, and I had my first coven mate. Witchcraft seared me with pleasure. I panted and giggled at the absurdity of the way I lost my spiritual virginity.

My body collapsed in a heap on the floor. My head thunked against the leg of a folding table, but I hardly cared. The weight between my legs dissipated at the same time I heard the totem clatter on the floor above my head. My arms flopped to my sides mirroring Ms. Cleft's contented abandon. My thoughts reeled at frightening speed. I became certain of two things: Shared pleasure enhanced my craft, and I would enjoy finding more coven mates.

I found Ms. Cleft in her studio on Saturday morning. I barged right in and shut the door behind me. I wasn't sure how she perceived our spectral intercourse. It felt real to me, but what did she sense?

"This is awkward," I said.

The instructor tilted her head and squinted her eyes. "There's definitely something about you, Andrea."

"Did you feel that 'something' while you were laying on the floor after class yesterday?" I kept my tone light, but sarcasm slipped out when I used air quotes around "something". That something was an invisible cock swinging between my legs.

"What do you know about that?"

"I was in the supply closet right below you doing the same thing. You used the Fertility Totem."

"How dare you invade my privacy." Ms. Cleft sounded angry, but I suspected she knew the injustice of her accusation.

I said, "That cock and I have a special relationship. I felt what it felt."

Ms. Cleft stared at me speechless. I didn't expect her to believe me and waited for her to challenge my claim.

To provoke a response, I added, "In some ways, you took my virginity yesterday. I can never get that back."

I watched a cascade of emotions cross Ms. Cleft's face. I detected a hint of fear. "I don't believe it," she snapped. "It's ridiculous. You spied on me and invaded my privacy. I'll have you fired for it."

"You won't," I said with as much calm as I could muster. "What would you say? I spied on you masturbating at work?"

"Studios are private spaces like apartments. I can do what I like in mine."

"I'm sure you're right." I tried to be small and unthreatening. "I didn't spy on you. You know it, and you know something else, too."

"What's that?"

"I used our union to cast a spell. I'm not sure how it works yet, but you felt me inside you, and you felt my spell." I didn't know if my claims were true, and even if they were, I assumed Ms. Cleft would deny them. I said it because I was weary of dancing around the facts as I knew them. If Ms. Cleft was going to be difficult anyway, I had nothing to lose.

Her reply surprised me. She asked, "How did you do it?"

"It's a little involved," I said. "I use witchcraft, and I usually get what I want even if I don't know what I want at the time."

"Show me."

I sighed. "It doesn't work that way. It doesn't like to be tested."

"Isn't that convenient?"

"Not especially," I replied. "I have to compose each spell in a way that it can work through coincidence. I cast a spell to get into college even though I didn't really know what a college was, and here I am. I cast a spell and started drawing in a style I had never seen before. It could all be coincidence."