Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys

Morgana Delacroix would have said the two sexy outfits were drawn to each other and thus mystically synchronizing the two women's movements, but to Mrs. Sheriff it was just a pleasant surprise when she stepped out of her room and saw Mrs. Mayor in the same position some yards down the hall.

The two women walked toward each other; slowly, sensually, letting the other take her in step by step. Each immediately recognized that her friend was also wearing her new outfit and registered all the sexy details as she came closer. There were two elevators side-by-side in the middle of the hallway and the women stopped just beyond them, some five paces apart, and posed for their friend.

Mrs. Sheriff let her robe fall open and Mrs. Mayor smiled and salivated to see her friend's small titties so absolutely crushed together.

Mrs. Sheriff's eyes popped when she realized Mrs. Mayor wasn't wearing a black G-string beneath her garter belt as she'd first thought. No, Mrs. Mayor had gone commando, but her bush was so thick and full it looked like she had on a furry thong.

Just then, one of the elevators dinged its arrival and the doors opened to disgorge four men. They were all wearing ball caps with car logos: two Fords, one Chevy, and a Pontiac. The men tumbled out, clearly already with a few drinks under their belts, talking over each other about the great cars they'd seen or were showing at their muscle car convention, and wondering how they should spend their first night in the big city.

Their voices went silent when they caught sight of the women in the hall. Two men had turned right and seen Mrs. Sheriff; the other two went left and were hit with the image of Mrs. Mayor. Silently, like a scene from a Hangover movie, each pair of men turned back to share the amazing news with the other pair, only to discover another fantasy vision standing behind their new friends.

Their eyes feasted on lace and satin, big tits and slender legs, women they gradually realized were as old as their own wives, but goddamn, my wife never looked so good. Eventually the four conventioneers looked into each other's eyes, questioning.

- Do you know them? Did you call them? Did you hire them?

- Strippers? Whores? Sluts?

Apparently, they'd actually started asking each other these things out loud because the buxom one in crimson suddenly said, "Whores."

"Call girls, actually," said the skinny one in black. She suddenly strode forward, passing right through the four men, and taking up position alongside the hottie in red.

The four guys automatically rearranged themselves into a square, facing the two women. "What's the difference?" asked the guy with a Mustang logo on his hat.

"Call girls cost more," answered Blackie.

"But we fuck better too," added Crimson.

That stumped the conventioneers a bit, so they fell back on the comfortable and explained what they were doing in town and what kind of car each had brought to show.

Crimson said that she'd lost her virginity in the back seat of a Dodge Charger.

The men approved of her good taste.

Blackie then asked if the guys would like to take their virginities in the backs of their show cars.

"Not to be rude," replied Chevy Camaro, "but, you're virgins?"

"Have you ever fucked me?" responded Blackie.

Camaro had to admit that he hadn't had that pleasure. Yet.

"Then it will be our first time and therefore my virginity with you," Blackie said matter-of-factly.

The men couldn't argue with that logic and the discussion moved on to prices and also to the idea of maybe letting some of the other conventioneers in on the action.

During these negotiations, without a second thought about what they were doing right out in the hallway of the Grand Sheraton, Crimson had shed her bra and Ford Torino was nuzzling on a nipple. Blackie's thong had been pushed aside and Pontiac GTO had two fingers in her quim.

Then the arrival bell on the other elevator dinged and out stepped three more people; two women and a man. Morgana, Vikki, and Dylan.

Morgana turned to her two young companions and whispered, "Hotel security," before confidently stepping in between the 'call girls' and the conventioneers.

Dylan quickly picked up on Morgana's intent and followed her lead. He also took up a place between the men and the women, but faced the men. "Gentlemen," he said gravely, with a slight nod. "We're with hotel security and we've heard there might be a few women looking to, um, 'work' with some of our guests." The car guys were stunned into silence.

Vikki caught on and stepped in. "You see, we work undercover, dressed like regular hotel guests, but on the lookout for, shall we say, activities that don't really belong in a nice hotel like ours."

"What?" "Well we weren't..." "What are you going to do?" came out of the men's mouths.

"Well, as near as we can tell, you gentlemen may have been approached and even propositioned, but that's no crime, is it?" Dylan said with a bit of a conspiratorial wink to the guys. "So, if you were just to continue on to your rooms there'd be no reason for us to even take your names for our report. Would there?"

And just like that, the car guys scattered, almost running to their rooms.

Vikki and Dylan grinned hugely at each other, quite proud of their performance and success; they damn near high-fived.

"What next?" Vikki asked as she turned toward Morgana. But the older woman was gone. As were the two bewitched would-be whores.

"Where?" she asked Dylan. All he could do was shrug.

The two cousins spent the next 15 minutes just hanging around the hallway, their feelings of success deflating into feelings of goofiness; especially when two of the car guys stuck their heads out their doors and then quickly ducked back inside after spotting the 'hotel security' still hanging around.

Finally, a door opened about 30 feet down on the left and Morgana Delacroix walked toward them, carrying a stuffed shopping bag with the costume shop's logo on the side.

Dylan pressed the elevator call button and the doors opened just as Morgana arrived, her usual, inscrutable smile on her face. Although, Vikki noticed, her normally perfect hair did seem more tousled than when they'd ridden up, and was her lipstick smeared?

"So, what happened?" Vikki demanded when the doors closed, leaving them in privacy. "Why did you take off like that?"

Morgana just looked her straight in the eye and delivered her answer like a teacher responding to the slightly slow student in class.

"Since the clothes were enchanted, the only way to break the spell was obviously to get the clothes off. It really wouldn't have been appropriate to have them strip down right there in the hallway, in front of their prospective clients, would it?" Vikki shook her head no with some chagrin. "So, I talked them into one of their rooms and finally got them to disrobe." She held up the shopping bag, a black strap to something hanging out over the edge.

"Fortunately," Morgana continued. "Their memories of what really happened are going to be pretty fuzzy, although their dreams and fantasies for the next couple of weeks may be far more exotic than they're used to. But that's not necessarily a bad thing," she added with a smile and a gleam in her eye just as the elevator doors opened and delivered them to a lobby full of people that cut off the conversation.

At Amorous Goods

CHAPTER FIVE.

Vikki took another sip of the red. It was delicious, she had to concede. She looked at Morgana's perfectly coiffed hair and thought again about that day at the Grand Sheraton. 'How had the witch's hair gotten messed then? And how had she gotten the two women out of their charmed costumes?' {And were the two things connected? Her impish side said.}

Right now, Morgana was continuing her latest lesson on the oddities that Ludwig Freitag had brought together in Amorous Goods. "Those lingerie pieces were probably commissioned by the original owner for his wife," she explained. "Maybe he wanted her to be a bit more adventurous in their lovemaking. And if our two wives had only modelled them for their husbands, as I learned they meant to, then all would have been fine. It probably would have been the hottest sex they'd ever had, but all fine."

"But the clothes made them want to act like whores?" Vikki challenged. "And it didn't matter with who -- the first cock they saw would do?"

Morgana could tell the young woman was upset by this, thus the much stronger language than usual. But she kept her own tone calm as she continued. "That's what I meant about unintended consequences. Imagine that the first owner only meant for his wife to wear them in their own bedroom. But what if the next owner was a pimp who used the charm to take advantage of unsuspecting women?"

"So," Dylan mused. "Enchanted for one could be cursed for another?"

"Exactly," Morgana replied. "It can get confusing. For example, look at the next entry after the three you noticed before. Same acquisition date, so Ludwig probably got them all together. But notice how the 'S' has been crossed out and replaced with a 'V'?"

"He moved it from the store to the vault." Dylan deduced.

"Precisely," said Morgana. "And in the other column, the 'E' is crossed through and a 'C' has been added."

"He learned or deduced it wasn't enchanted, but cursed?" Dylan offered, feeling he was starting to get a grasp.

"That's what I would say," Morgana agreed. "Except for this arrow." She pointed and Dylan noticed a one-headed arrow apparently pointing from the 'E' to the 'C'.

Vikki had been wondering about that bit of short hand herself. "So, what do you think the arrow means?"

"I think it means the item was originally enchanted, but at some point, became cursed." She looked directly at Vikki, willing the sceptic to accept these strange, even bizarre concepts. "Imagine if that lingerie we recovered had originally been enchanted just enough to allow a shy wife to relax and let loose with her husband. But later, another practitioner came along and corrupted the spell so that the wife really would become a whore for anyone."

"From enchanted to cursed," offered Dylan.

"From enchanted to cursed," agreed Morgana.

CHAPTER SIX.

Vikki felt she was about to lose her mind. Yes, she had gone into some kind of fugue state and masturbated herself to orgasm right here on this table with some of Ludwig Freitag's kinky acquisitions. Yes, she had seen two middle-aged women half naked and negotiating sex for sale after putting on outfits that Vikki had sold from the AG collection. And yes, she'd seen equally unexplainable erotic things since inheriting this freaky antique store and boutique hotel. But... "Enchanted and Cursed!?" she finally said out loud.

Morgana placed her wine glass on the table and stepped in front of Vikki, clasping both of her soft hands around Vikki's shaking one, keeping the archivist's wine from spilling over. She looked directly, strongly, into the younger woman's eyes.

"Let's look at this from an archival viewpoint; let's talk about concepts and theories," she soothed. "You're appraising a collection of papers from Old Salem, from the infamous Witch Trials. That would be fascinating, wouldn't it?"

Vikki could only nod slightly; trapped in Morgana's intense emerald gaze.

"Many women and a few men were accused of sorcery, of witchcraft. Some of them were found guilty and hanged and today we see it as terrible mischief and mob madness. But what if some of the accused women really believed in magick and actually were conducting rituals they thought would give them special powers, be it from Mother Nature or from Satan?"

Morgana lightened her grip on Vikki's hands and guided the glass to the young woman's lips, where she sipped. The occultist continued to hold Vikki's gaze and offered a slight smile.

"So," Morgana continued, "you have one of the 'witch's' spell books and she talks about enchanting versus cursing; an object, a person, what have you. What's the difference?"

Vikki's mind reached for the abstraction to give her something to wrap her thoughts around besides enchanted lingerie and the deep green of Morgana's beautiful eyes. "Good vs. evil; help vs. harm?"

"Exactly," smiled Morgana. "It's all about her intent." She brought her voice to a more conversational level that seemed to bring the pulsing energy level in the room down with it.

'I like you and you're lonely, so I'll make an enchantment, a charm, so Farmer Jones doesn't seem so ugly and you can make each other happy.'

Or, 'I hate you, you stole away my boyfriend, so I'm going to curse you so that you'll think that any man you see is your one true love and you'll open your legs for him.'

Both love charms, but with very different intents and results."

She then picked up her own glass and took a drink. Dylan, meanwhile, took a long draught. The looks that had passed between the two women, the wild passions that flittered beneath those looks, had him clearly visualizing them in a lesbian 69 on the strong table and him walking back and forth from one end of their union to the other, where he offered and they accepted his manhood in all holes. He took another drink, then topped off his glass.

"What about...um...moral choice and free will?" Dylan asked in a stumbling voice, struggling to stay on the high side of this discussion and not lose himself in those delightful, but dangerous mental images of the two women.

The witch held her glass up to Dylan for a refill. "You have hit on a key element," she said. She took her glass, stepped back a step so she could more easily see them at the same time and took a sip.

"This is a bit simplistic," she offered. "But have you ever heard that old maxim that a hypnotist can't make a hypnotized person do something they really would never do on their own?" The faux-cousins nodded. "Well, imagine an enchantment is like that. It can only enhance or amplify something the subject is already interested in, even if they're embarrassed to admit it. A curse, on the other hand, is meant to corrupt; to get someone to do something they'd never want to do. That's where the element of evil comes in."

"Let's go back to the lingerie," Morgana continued. "I think the pieces really are just enchanted, although perhaps a lot more strongly than Ludwig thought. Remember, our good town matrons already had the idea to dress and act like call girls for their husbands before they ever saw the lingerie. So, when they encountered the spell, it simply enhanced and amplified what was already in their heads and desires."

"Amplified?" Vikki interjected in a strong tone. "I'd say so. They were going to pull trains on conventioneers."

Morgana nodded. "Like I said, the spell may have been laid on too heavily. Or, that could have been a secret fantasy that was much stronger in both ladies than they knew. But if the lingerie was actually cursed, then anyone who put it on would have been ready to whore herself out to anybody, regardless if she'd never had that fantasy, and regardless of the damage it would do to her or her family. Unfortunately, the only way to test that hypothesis would be to put the clothes on someone very innocent and ignorant of those kinds of activities and see what happens. It's not a test I'm willing to subject anyone to."

Vikki and Dylan nodded solemnly. This was why they had to recapture the many items they had sold off in their early haste to liquidate the Freitag estate.

"By the way, where did you find the outfits? Were they for sale in the store?" asked Morgana.

Dylan answered. "No, actually, they were in the closets of the two upstairs Grand Suites; one in each."

"Ah," the beautiful older woman sighed. "Then they were part of Ludwig's 'special services' for his high-end clients."

"Special services?" said Vikki.

"You have to understand, your uncle had a serious historical and mystical interest in the items he collected. But he was also a charming degenerate who wanted those items to serve the purposes for which they were intended."

Vikki's face looked pained. "A charming degenerate?"

Morgana Delacroix wore one of her best Mona Lisa smiles. "One of his most endearing qualities," she assured his niece.

Dylan picked up the thread. "So, he'd make some of the special items available for hotel visitors to use? And he charged for it?"

"How much more would you pay for your hotel room if it came with a magical corset that would make your companion act the complete whore for you?" asked Morgana matter-of-factly.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Vikki brought the conversation back to her original question. "Okay then, what about this one?" she said, pointing at an entry farther down the page. "This is a bracelet that I remember going out with that jewellery lot we talked about. It has an 'E' and a 'C' and a question mark." She drew the symbol in the air. "And no arrows, just the three letters or characters."

Professor Delacroix turned to Dylan. "What do you think?"

Dylan pondered for a moment. He had seen some seriously weird shit since taking on business management of the AG and he was not as reluctant to believe its supernatural cause as Vikki. "I think it means he wasn't sure," he offered. "Maybe the, what do you call it?" he directed at the archivist. "Provenance? Maybe the provenance was unclear and he knew it had a charm, but couldn't tell if it was merely enchanted, or cursed, or had been first enchanted and then later cursed. Corrupted, that's what you called that, right?" he asked Morgana.

The beautiful witch smiled warmly. "You have been paying attention, haven't you?"

The young man flushed.

"But does that mean it's dangerous and something we need to recover?" interjected Vikki, feeling upset again at the way Dylan was acting like a puppy around a woman who was literally old enough to be his mother. {Jealous? Her damnable inner voice repeated in a catty tone. About him? Or maybe about her? It added suggestively.}

Morgana turned her smile on Vikki. "That is the question, isn't it? Of course, a lot depends on who has it and how he's using it. And especially, what it does. Does the list say what the charm is?"

"Unfortunately," Vikki answered, "this inventory sheet is skimpy on those details. There may be more somewhere else, but I haven't found it yet. All it says here is, 'Three Wise Monkeys: no evil'."

Morgana froze; the smile became a grimace. "You sold the Monkeys?" she asked in a choked voice.

Dylan and Vikki exchanged surprised, worried, and ultimately guilty looks.

"Yes," the new owner of Amorous Goods finally said dejectedly. She knew something bad was up.

Morgana put her glass on the table and looked at the inventory sheet for a few moments. Then she lifted her gaze and it was once again the strong, determined look of a woman who would let nothing stand in her way.

"Do you have the receipt from when you sold this jewellery? I think we have our next recovery mission."

At Dolan's Photography

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Sam Dolan could tell the young housewife was still quite nervous about taking her clothes off for the photographer; even though she was the one who would be paying for the privilege. He'd learned a long time ago that while these women were excited about the prospect of posing in private boudoir shots for their husbands or partners, it was quite common for them to get cold feet on the actual day of shooting.

Fortunately for Sam, the secret weapon he'd acquired from Amorous Goods would melt those cold feet into hot puddles of passion with no problem. But he still needed to finesse her a little farther along the path before he could employ the secret weapon. 'Or should I say, Magic Charm?' he thought.