Amorous Goods: The Anklet Pair

Author's Note: This is a story of witches, sex, and magic anklets. The 1958 movie with James Stewart and Kim Novak, "Bell, Book, and Candle" is the inspiration for the character Rylan, her cat Meyollnir, and the Zodiac Club. That world of the 1950's witchcraft, spells, and emotionless quirky characteristics fit well into this present-day story.

If extra-marital fun and sharing offend you, skip this story.

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Prologue

A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This is one of the stories of those encounters with objects found at "Amorous Goods".

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Early 1960's

The tall, lanky young businessman was wearing customary attire for an elegant evening in the city, a topcoat covering his black tux, white shirt, bowtie, and a fedora hat to protect his hair on this snowy winter evening. He had taken a taxi from the high-rise building where he lived in the penthouse suite. But as instructed, he was dropped off a block away for the rest of the journey by foot to his destination.

Looking intently down as he walked, he finally saw the two-inch wide golden line with arrows which seemed to glow through the light dusting of snow in the center of the sidewalk. The few other people walking nearby didn't seem to notice the glowing line directing him, as if it appeared only to those who knowingly looked for it.

The line led another fifty feet and turned toward what he always knew on this street to be an empty dark alleyway, where now there stood an obvious door twenty feet within the alley on the side of a building. The door with black foot-wide wooden columns on either side was surrounded with signs of the zodiac drawn in gold in vertical patterns on those columns. The words "The Zodiac Club" were glowing in bright blue neon letters above the door.

The two-foot-tall wooden shutters to the left of the door opened and a pleasant little turban-wearing man popped his head out saying, "Welcome back, my friend. The signs of the zodiac are most favorable for your return this evening. Enter!" Then the door swung open inward.

The young man walked through the opening into the small foyer surrounded by walls of bare red brick. He checked his topcoat and hat with the girl just inside the door. Then he started down the metal stairs on his right, descending to well below street level.

As he sank into the subterranean world of the Zodiac Club, it seemed to grow ever darker and more foreboding than even the cold alleyway outside. He found the club filled with smoke at this early evening hour. The dozen or so patrons around the room were a pale, expressionless lot, sitting around their small tables with a few at a bar as he stopped halfway down the stairs and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

The room's dim spotlight drew his attention to the small unoccupied stage to the left with its single tall backless stool sitting there empty and a set of bongo drums off to the side. To his right starting near the base of the stairs was a long bar, with a higher stage for a band behind and slightly above the back of that bar. There were two men, both dressed in black, standing and leaning against the bar looking at him.

All tables in the room held flickering candles to provide at least some light, but he noticed one table in the far corner of the room where the candle sat unlit. He saw her there, sitting alone in her chair as she leaned back against a red brick column. Her face was hidden in the darkness of a shadow, but he knew this was the woman he sought.

He thought she was gorgeous the first time they met, dressed in black tights and thin black hooded shawl making her pale skin and red pixie-cut hair stand out in any crowd. Tonight, even with the snow outside, she was dressed the same and oddly barefoot, sitting there with a cigarette in her hand. If she were any other woman, he would crave her attention for whatever minutes she might graciously give him. But even with his money and status, he knew she had no interest in him or his kind.

Weeks ago, he had sought the services of a rather peculiar old woman, Madame Freyja, maker of spells and potions, in an old house on the outskirts of the city. He asked if she could provide him with something special. But Madame Freyja had pointed him in the direction of this club and the young Rylan Stephens as best able to make the present he wanted for his young wife. The elder witch had warned him that normals weren't welcome in their emotionless community, but that Rylan was probably the only one with a 'familiar' pet assistant powerful enough for his odd request.

As he walked past the bar toward Rylan, one of the male patrons disdainfully blew a cloud of cigarette smoke in front of him. He swept a hand at the smoke, unsuccessfully trying to brush away the acrid smell and only adding it to the general cloud before he took the last steps to her table. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat before asking hopefully "Do you have them?"

Rylan leaned forward, the youthful woman's face leaving the shadow as she reached her left hand to the ashtray in the center of the table to crush her cigarette. With her right hand, the beautiful witch laid a small black felt bundle about the size of her closed hand on the table.

He reached for the bundle, and nervously opened it, spreading the felt flat, revealing two thin silver bracelets. Spreading one chain out on the felt, he picked up the other by the ends, admiring the three silver hearts dangling from the center of the strand. "And these will do what I want?" he asked.

"If she accepts them willingly and puts them both on her ankles," Rylan said "you merely snap your fingers once for her to be faithful. She won't have sex with anyone. And she can't remove them unless you unconditionally trust her to love only you."

"And when I want her to have sex with me?" he asked.

"When she hears two snaps of the fingers, she'll begin craving sex," Rylan added. "The craving will increase with every sexual encounter until you again snap your fingers once to return her to a faithful normal."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed as he smiled, picking up the second anklet to see the same three hearts.

"I made those exactly as you wanted," Rylan said, then added in an ominous tone "Be careful what you wish for."

"It was the only way I could be sure she'll be faithful."

"So, you believe," Rylan said in an ominous warning tone. "With your payment, then I believe our business is done."

He reached into his suit jacket inner pocket and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to her. Rylan took the envelope and casually dropped it into her large purse on the floor.

"Aren't you going to count it?" he asked.

"If you know what's good for you," she warned with just a cheerful hint of caution and certainty to her voice, "it's all there. Now, you should leave. You're making the others here uncomfortable. But if your wife puts those on, you might bring her back here some evening. If she's wearing those anklets, you'll find the others here more welcoming."

He covered the anklets in their felt wrap, slipped the bundle into his inner jacket pocket, and stood to leave. "Thank you," he said.

Rylan just nodded. As he walked away, she leaned back into the shadow and added in a low ominous voice "You won't be thanking me for long."

***

Decades Later

The black Mercedes with darkened windows pulled off the road into a small parking lot in front of the old decrepit house. Decades ago, the house was one of the finest mansions in this area. But its owner's focus on other matters allowed the house to fall into disrepair.

The sun was almost gone on this cool clear autumn evening when the driver door opened, and a tall, pale, lithe figure rotated her shapely legs out. She planted her short heels firmly in the gravel before standing, uncomfortable as she was to wearing shoes. Reaching to pull the black hood of her thin black shawl up and over her red, teased, pixie cut hair, she then slid her hands down a little along her black tights to smooth the wrinkles.

She stepped to her left and closed the car door, noticing her reflection in the glass staring back. The mature face which so many said was still beautiful showed her indifferent expression. Her bright, blue, exotic eyes looked somewhat distant, as if looking through into another world, and uncaring of this world around her.

Rylan Stephens didn't care much for the daylight anymore, timing her arrival here as the sun went down. She realized her preference for the night and general lack of concern had returned. It took decades to undo that curse which made her cry. A warmth left her body with the last tears years ago, leaving behind the coolness she felt since. It was that same coolness she felt toward others when she was younger, before she felt those cursed emotions. Her coolness was an indifference toward normals. It was an indifference only if they left her alone. But when shown any disdain by a normal, she could as coolly enjoy an unnatural season of thunderstorms, if that was their fear. Or perhaps they might find their room plagued with spiders.

But he came into her life, carrying the curse with him! And it wasn't until he left that she was able to undo the damage of those tears which chased away her cat, Meyollnir. During those years, there were no unnatural thunderstorms, odd behaviors of the foolish who annoyed her, or the intriguing trinkets she used to make. The trinkets after that were merely glass, wood, and metal, like those commonly found in all stores ... or almost all stores.

This trip was to one of those other stores which are not quite the same, to retrieve something from her past. It was one of the items she made for the owner of this house. That item was from her much younger days, before he came along, and the tears.

She had given in to the challenge of making the ankle bracelets to such interesting specifications. But that one sale gave her the money she needed back then to open her magic store in Greenwich Village.

Now, she needed the complete set of ankle bracelets to undo the mistake for a ... friend? No, not really a friend. Just some normals she knew, who happened to become close to her during her years of love and sadness.

She walked to the front steps of the house and glanced up at the business sign hanging from the porch roof above the steps, the sign simply saying; "Amorous Goods". She could feel the contents of that house adding to the darkness surrounding it.

Climbing the three steps onto the porch, she went inside the front door, noticing the musty smell of the old house and paused to look around. Then she walked past several glass cabinets filled with a variety of items to stop at a jewelry counter. As she looked down through the glass counter at the odd rings, bracelets, and necklaces, a young woman came out of the back room through a green curtained doorway.

"Hello. Welcome to Amorous Goods. I'm Vikki. Can I help you find something?" the clerk asked.

Rylan looked up with her deadpan expression addressing the store clerk. "An acquaintance of mine was in here several weeks ago and purchased an expensive silver anklet. It had three small hearts dangling from it and was one of a pair. I'm looking for the other matching ankle bracelet."

"I remember that item. No one was ever interested in them as a pair, so we sold them separately."

"How did you sell them separately?" Rylan asked, her voice showing her concern. "They were a special pair and destined to remain together."

An older woman came through the curtained door and looked at their customer.

"Rylan," the woman exclaimed somewhat dismissively.

Rylan glanced at the newcomer and their eyes locked. "Morgana," Rylan said , her voice low in an accusatory recognition. "I might have guessed," she continued with a hint of derision.

"What brings you out of your novelty shop?" Morgana asked, her tone making the novelty shop sound like an insult.

"I haven't shed a tear since I closed that store years ago," Rylan said, and Morgana's expression changed as if what little color remained, drained from her face.

"And Meyollnir?" Morgana asked nervously.

"He's back," Rylan said confidently. "And we're stronger."

Morgana's eyes went wide as she drew in her breath.

"You two know each other?" the clerk asked.

"Rylan's an old friend of mine, Vikki," Morgana explained, never taking her eyes off Rylan. "She used to dabble in the same arts until she learned to cry. Then she lost her familiar pet muse and lost her influence. There was no magic left in her store, just various trinkets and other oddities."

"That's all changed," Rylan said. "I've returned to my old ways."

"She's looking for the second anklet," Vikki said.

"Too bad," Morgana said with a sneer. "I sold the second one just last week."

"You removed the binding for the pair," Rylan said, "But you didn't remove the rest of the spell which made them special."

"I saw no need to remove the rest," Morgana explained. "You made them for a loving wife. Separately, they would allow two wives to love their husbands."

"That's NOT how they were made!" Rylan said, the anger in her voice showing at her friend's ignorance. "You were playing with something far more dangerous."

Vikki broke in with "What do you mean, they weren't made that way?"

Rylan looked at her. "Do you know the man who owned those?"

"He was my uncle. He died a few years ago and left his collection to me. Morgana is helping me understand some of the things in his collection."

"A long time ago," Rylan began "your uncle asked me to fashion the pair of ankle bracelets for his wife. He was concerned she might be cheating on him. Once she willingly put them on, the clasps remained frozen closed until she died. And with one snap of his fingers, she would remain faithful with her legs together." Rylan paused for effect, then added in a more sinister voice as she again looked at Morgana "But with two snaps of his fingers her legs would part for wild sex."

"And separately," Morgana injected "two women would have wild sex with their husbands whenever the husband wanted. They were love charms."

"There are no love charms, Morgana," Rylan said sternly. "There were three hearts on them, and you missed that dark side of the spell." She turned back to address Vikki. "Your uncle assumed he would always be the one snapping his fingers twice to spread your aunt's legs. After she put them on, as with all such misadventures in control, he found his mistake. They were in a jazz club in the late 1950s, the type where they sometimes had a beatnik artist reciting his poetry, ... as he snapped his fingers."

"You're kidding!" Vikki said as she gasped, realizing what must have happened.

"Your aunt apparently sat there, spreading then closing her knees to the beat ... until the end of the set. It just happened the poet ended when her knees were spread."

"What did she do?" Vikki asked.

"When your aunt leaned back and pulled up her dress, offering herself to the poet, your uncle quickly snapped his fingers once again to regain control of her. He had quite a time getting his wife out of the club as the patrons continued to snap their fingers. And he never left her alone after that."

"I always thought they were just a very close couple who loved each other," Vikki said.

"Oh, they were very close after that," Rylan said sarcastically "for her sanity. Without that last single snap of his fingers and his efforts to get her out of there, she would have done every man or woman in that club that night. And she wouldn't have stopped there."

Vikki's eyes went wide. "It turned my aunt into a nympho? Why didn't he ever release her from the anklets?"

"Your uncle sought me out to remove them," Rylan replied. "But he could never bring himself to do the only thing he needed to open the clasps. Those anklets your uncle wanted to control his wife forced him to constantly watch over her."

Rylan looked at Morgana. "When you removed the pairing, you removed the finger snap control." She looked back at Vikki. "Your uncle wanted them made so after the first time his wife had sex while wearing the anklets, the craving would grow and continue to grow as long as he wanted her. She would become insatiable for him. She would lose control of her ability to resist the increasing drive for more sex, trying to please him ... or any partner, any way she could, until that single snap of his fingers reset her back to normal after he had enough. But that's no longer an option!"

Morgana smirked as she said "Well, the normals should beware what they wish for."

"My acquaintance has his wife tied to the bed. She was wearing him out, and he couldn't take the chance she might leave their apartment. I need that second anklet to rebind them. Then he can regain some control of his wife so he might remove them." Rylan explained.

Vikki added quickly "I'll find the name and address of the second customer."

***

A Few Weeks Earlier

Reaching down to the car seat control, I shifted the position to better accommodate my six-foot three athletic frame in my wife's BMW as I drove toward the airport. She texted after landing on the return flight from her latest business trip. She didn't like sitting in the lower ride of my sports car, so I indulged her by driving hers. And once I adjusted the seat, her car was more comfortable for my tall muscular build.

The line of cars along the curb at the busy airport was crowded as usual. But I managed to find a space along the curb when I saw my gorgeous auburn-haired wife waving at me. I pulled over and parked, with the engine still running, to pick her up, after her week away. After a quick kiss, I quickly loaded her luggage into the car trunk, then slipped back into the driver's seat for our half hour drive home.

"You should have come with me on this trip, Ted," Jan began once we were on our way. "You missed your chance with a woman at the bar."

"Oh? Another of your 'In your dreams' when you point out a hot young girl to me?"

"Not this one. She was about my age, wearing stiletto heels and a tight dress. She was flirting with a guy there. I couldn't tell what they were saying, I don't understand Spanish. But it was her anklet that caught my attention. It had the words 'Hot Wife' on it. "

"Do you know what a hot wife is?" I asked.

"I looked it up," Jan said. "She's a wife whose husband knows and allows her to play without him."

"You want me to play with a hot wife," I said "probably so you can flirt and play with another guy by yourself. What about our 'same room' rule when we're playing with others in the swinger lifestyle?"

"I like watching you fuck other women," Jan said. "I thought it was really hot watching Maggie riding you last month."

"And I like watching you sucking and fucking other guys. I enjoyed your mouth on me as I watched Maggie's husband fucking you. And that was rather erotic laying there with you later watching us as Maggie rode me. But if I go off with another hot wife after picking her up in an airport lounge, I doubt she'll allow you to watch us."

"That would be an issue," Jan replied. "If you did go off with a hot wife, 'What's in it for me?' You know, I'm like Barbie: that bitch has it all."

"And my bitch WANTS it all," I said. "But hot wife is off the table since I won't allow a double standard. If I can't play alone, then you can't either."