Just a Little Magic Ch. 12

It wasn't a lack of passion on her part, but she was only accustomed to a couple of standard positions. Adventurous she was not. She had sex for the sense of security, and for the confirmation that she was loved and desired.

Warm. Comfortable. Reassuring.

Irene grew warmer when she realized that I was sincere about returning to Cyprus. This didn't have to be a mere fling; the potential was there for something more.

After a lovely week in her arms, I began the first of my connecting flights home.

***

I had far too much time to think, waiting in airports, and on the planes.

How was I even doing this? I was genuinely in love with a wonderful woman; I had no doubts about my feelings for Sophie. But I was simultaneously building relationships with 11 other women - eight of whom I'd had sex with.

That made absolutely zero sense. Yes - I was trying to save their lives. By lying and deceiving them? When Sammy and I were kids, we would often ask ourselves: what would Batman have done in this situation? I considered that question, on the flight from Athens to Frankfurt.

It didn't help.

Sometimes, we would picture ourselves as superheroes, with unique powers, or an unusual combination of powers. What was I, now? Seductive Man? Super Gigolo? It was Lillian's spells that made these women fall for me, aided by some sneaky tricks to make it seem that the connection between us was fated, or pre-ordained.

The only one that actually liked me for myself was Sophie. Or was her affection for me just another of Lillian's spells? No - I was pretty sure that we'd met before Lillian had begun casting her enchantments.

All I managed to do with these questions was to give myself a massive headache. I'm not great at sleeping on planes anyway, but I was a wreck by the time we landed in Germany. Then I had to face another layover, followed by another long flight - to Montreal.

That was the only bright spot: I was going to see Sophie. But it also became my biggest worry - how could I face her? Sure, I'd lied to her before ... but now I felt like I was unravelling.

Sophie met me at the airport.

There she was - my beautiful girlfriend, with her big, expressive eyes, and her close-mouthed grin, revealing all of her dimples.

I felt tears in my eyes as we embraced. I must have held her extra close, or squeezed her extra tight - Sophie pulled back a little, and looked at me closely.

- "Oh, Sweetie ..." she said, as she reached up to wipe away my tears. "Oh - you look exhausted."

She took me home, and sent me straight to bed.

I was exhausted: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Sophie recognized it, and immediately set about looking after me. I woke late the next morning, to find her whole apartment smelling of homemade chicken soup.

- "You're an angel." I told her.

- "Well ... your angel, maybe." she said, with a smile. "But only yours ..."

That just about did me in right there. The tears began to flow once again.

"Oh, Pete - what's wrong, sweetheart?"

I decided then and there that I was going to tell her. I was going to tell her everything. All of the women in question deserved to know that they were in danger, and that we were trying to save them. But Sophie, first and foremost, deserved the truth from me.

I was about to tell her. I actually opened my mouth to say the first words. That's when I vomited all over myself. And all over her.

***

Sophie took me to the hospital. I had a serious fever, and couldn't stop vomiting. Those wonderful symptoms were accompanied by a violent migraine - I just couldn't seem to connect two consecutive thoughts.

A doctor diagnosed severe food poisoning. That, and a national health care system, gets you sent home with a couple of extra-strength Tylenols.

Sophie nursed me. I think that she took a couple of days off work. She watched me, worried about me, and cleaned up my vomit (I don't know if that means anything to most of you, but if someone other than your mother cleans up your puke, they must really love you).

She was unfailingly cheerful about the whole thing.

- "I can't believe you." I said weakly. "You're incredible."

- "You did the same for me. Remember?"

- "You weren't puking all over the place."

Sophie just smiled again. "Tell me that if the roles were reversed, that you wouldn't be here looking after me."

I couldn't tell her that. But I also couldn't tell her the truth. Every time I even tried to begin, I brought up everything in my stomach.

I was sick and weak for the better part of a week. Once she saw that I was a little better, Sophie went back to work. By the following weekend, I was out of bed, preparing a meal for her. I couldn't tell her what I wanted to, but I could do other things to show her how much I cared about her.

***

A week later, I was back in Toronto. I had a reunion with Sammy, dinner with Mom and Bill. It was several days before I got together with Lillian and Janine for a 'strategy session'.

They were pleased to hear that I'd 'closed the deal' with Irene. But they seemed genuinely concerned to learn that I'd suffered a breakdown of sorts upon arrival in Montreal.

Lillian quizzed me relentlessly about my symptoms; Janine wanted to know what I'd said to Sophie, and what she'd said to me.

- "You're exhausted, Peter." said Lillian. "Poor boy - we've put so much strain on you. So much pressure. You must be feeling it."

She asked me a few more questions. I answered as best I could - without admitting that I'd been about to tell Sophie everything. Lillian was very sympathetic.

"It's been so difficult for you." she said. "We should've seen this coming."

- "What can we do?" asked Janine. She sounded concerned.

- "I could ... Peter, I could use magic therapy to help you."

- "Magical therapy?"

Lillian nodded. "It's somewhat like a therapeutic massage - but on the inside. It relieves pain, soothes tired muscles, and reduces anxiety. Do you remember the first time I hypnotized you?"

- "Yes. I think so." I'd been 18 at the time; Lillian had been teaching magic.

- "It's a bit like that." she said. "It doesn't hurt at all. Shall we try it?"

- "Umm ..."

- "You trust me, don't you, Pete?"

- "Of course I trust you."

- "Alright, then."

Lillian hypnotized me again. I didn't feel all that different when I woke up. But I didn't have another migraine for quite a while.

***

Maintaining a relationship is a lot of work, if you're doing it right. Maintaining 12 at the same time is ridiculous. If I'd thought about it for just a moment before all of this started, I would've realized that it just wasn't possible.

Janine helped me keep to a schedule, but I was the one who had to compose the sincere, heartfelt messages. Lillian picked out gifts, and arranged their delivery by priority post, but I was the one who had to make the phone calls.

Or answer them - which was a lot harder. It might be the middle of the day, and my 'special' phone would ring (I had two phones now - one for my real life, and one for the 11).

- "Pete!"

- "Hey ... Tamara!"

- "I was just thinking of you - felt like I should call."

- "I'm so glad you did."

Each woman had her own particular rhythms and needs, preferences and worries.

Ashley (Chicago) was sure that I had other women. She just wanted to know that she was special to me, and that I was still interested in her.

Breanna (Atlanta) wanted my attention. She kept asking when she was going to meet 'my friends' in Atlanta. Gifts made her happy - but only for a limited time.

Tamara (Tampa) had mixed feelings about having sex with me. She'd enjoyed it, but she needed reassurance that she'd made the right decision.

Mirella (Brazil) was a beautiful, confident woman. I was something completely out her experience. She really didn't know what to make of me - except that she wanted more. That, and also the answer to the question: why did she want more of me?

Esther (Johannesburg) answered my letters. She didn't have access to a computer. I sent her a cell phone, with the contract paid up, just so that I could call and speak to her.

Kavia (Gujarat)... well, I tried to avoid Kavia. She called me weekly, texted, emailed ... and sent me pictures. Nude pictures. And suggestions.

Vicky (Singapore) would answer - oh so briefly - if I contacted her.

Sandra (Taiwan) called me weekly. She was fun, sometimes flirty, and sometimes NSFW.

Ri (Osaka) would immediately answer my calls, and responded almost instantly if I texted or messaged her. She never initiated contact, though.

Elodie (Brugges) and her girlfriend Christiane replied to my every message. I kept it light-hearted, but occasionally let slip that I missed them.

Irene (Cyprus) answered every call, and replied to every email.

Somehow, I kept up with my social media obligations. Janine made sure that I never missed a birthday, or any special occasion.

I wasn't as anxious, I suppose, but I still had my worries.

- "What happens if some of these women - once they're pregnant - decide to sue me for child support? I mean - paternity tests. What are the laws in some of these countries? What if each one sues me for half of my earnings? What's one half divided eleven times?"

- "You don't need to worry about that." said Janine.

- "They won't sue." said Lillian.

- "But how can you be sure?"

In between all of my worrying, Janine and I worked on new elements for our act. It's not always necessary to reinvent the wheel; sometimes you just need to give the old tricks a new spin. Then Sammy came up with a brainwave.

- "Remember that stuff you used to do when we first started?" he said.

I could've kissed him. That little seed of an idea grew into one of our signature routines. I would let one volunteer choose two numbers for a book: the first would correspond to a page, the second to a word. 92-14 would be the 14th word on page 92.

The twist - and I thought it was brilliant - was that we invited the audience to bring a book to our show. When Janine was calling for a volunteer, she would ask if anyone had a book with them. People would raise their hands, showing the books they'd brought.

Sammy publicized the idea on our website, and included footage from some of our test shows in Toronto and Montreal. One girl brought 'Green Eggs and Ham' by Dr. Seuss; another brought 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.

Fans got very creative: one brought a dictionary, another a coloring book. We got Tolkien, Nietzsche, A Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy ... it got to be so popular that I would stay after the show, doing five or six more books, for fans who'd come a long way, or brought their favourite books.

Penn and Teller didn't invite us onto their show again, but they did have us open for them in their own theatre.

Lillian was able to convince Sammy that he no longer needed to come on tour with us. She could handle the arrangements on location, while Sammy manned the phone and managed our website at home. Truth be told, I think that he was relieved; he really didn't want to be away from Trish for so many months.

I had a minor brainwave, which Janine didn't like, but Lillian fully approved of: I called Mirella and invited her to come to Vegas.

She was one of the most demanding of the 11 (except for Kavia), and was ready and able to travel. She immediately organized some sort of photo shoot in Vegas, to give herself a plausible excuse for making the trip (other than coming just to see me).

Mirella came to our Penn and Teller show - which she absolutely loved.

- "This idea with the books - it is very clever."

She asked me to accompany her to her photo shoot. How could I refuse, after she'd come to see my performance. Watch Mirella model a series of bikinis? Oh, the horror!

There was an added bonus to this little adventure, something I hadn't anticipated. The shoot was to take place next to a pool (logical enough, for bikini shots). Mirella was changing into the first swim suit, and Cousin Carla was with her. I was out by the pool, where the photographer was setting up reflectors, and humming to himself.

I was curious. I listened in. Okay, I read his mind.

- "Money, money money - lots of lovely money ..."

That made me even more curious. I read more of his thoughts.

When Mirella emerged from the dressing room, she had a towel wrapped her shoulders. I immediately walked over to her, and blocked her way.

- "Mirella - don't do this." I said.

- "What? It's only a bikini." she said.

- "This guy is a crook. He's planning to sell the photos to many different people."

- "He can't." she said, her eyes flashing angrily. "I will own the photos."

- "Are you sure? Ask to see the contract."

- "Peter - what is this about? Are you jealous? What's going on?"

- "Mirella - please. Ask to see the contract. His copy."

She took a good long look at me. The she instructed the photographer to bring out his copy of their contract.

- "You already have a copy." he said.

- "Not with me." said Mirella. "I want to see yours."

- "I don't think I have it here ..."

Mirella shrugged. "No contract, no shoot."

The photographer was torn. No shoot, no money. 'She won't notice' he told himself, as he went to get the contract.

Of course, he'd carefully altered his own copy. Just one paragraph - the paragraph dealing with who owned the photos after the shoot.

Mirella was furious. She actually pushed the photographer into the pool. Cousin Carla threw all of the guy's equipment in after him. We kept the adulterated copy of the contract, and left.

It was hours later, as we had dinner at Le Cirque, that Mirella thanked me.

- "How did you know?"

I told her that the guy looked shady, that I'd heard him whispering to himself ...

"So you read his mind?" she said.

- "Yes." I smiled, trying to make light of it.

- "You really can read minds, can't you?"

- "Umm ..."

- "Don't lie to me, Peter."

- "Yes. Yes, Mirella. I can read your mind."

- "What am I thinking - right now?"

I sighed. "You really want ...?"

- "Tell me - what am I thinking?"

- "You're thinking that our waiter needs to go on a diet. His clothes no longer fit him very well. You're also questioning how you could possibly have fallen in love with me, when I'm nothing like your ideal man. But you're also wondering how I could make you so happy ..."

- "My God."

- "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those last parts."

- "But you heard my thoughts. You can control my mind?"

- "No, Mirella. I can read minds - but I can't control or change your thoughts. I can't make you think or feel a certain way." I was being a little disingenuous there - because it was Lillian who'd cast the spell.

Mirella was perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd ever been near. Top three, certainly, with Sophie and Janine. I would have been the first to admit, though, that my ranking of Sophie was more subjective.

Were it not for Lillian's spell, Mirella would never have given me the time of day. She would've enjoyed my show, and then forgot about it a few days later. I wasn't handsome enough, or sexy enough to have caught her attention.

Yet here we were. She was infatuated with me, and still couldn't figure out why.

- "I don't think I want dessert." she said.

- "Nor do I. Can you guess what I'm thinking, Mirella?"

- "That's too easy." she said.

A lot happened in Vegas, that night. It stays in Vegas.

***

Chicago. Ashley rolled over, and pressed her massive breasts against my chest. Her hand went up to my shoulder. Her eyes were wide open.

- "You ... you really like me, don't you?"

I'd just eaten her to one orgasm, and then fucked her to a second. Wasn't the answer to that question already self-evident?

- "You know that I do."

Ashley bit her lip. "You have other women, though, right? I mean ... I know you do. I'm okay with that. But ... I just wanted you to know ... I haven't been with anyone else since the last time you were here."

This was ... odd - coming from a girl who'd been ridden hard and put away wet much too often. Yet ... I liked her. Ashley was uncomplicated.

- "I keep coming back for you, Ashley."

She smiled. "Yeah, you do."

***

Atlanta. Breanna was easy to deal with. Compliment her, flatter her - and then reap the rewards.

She'd been practicing a bit: she made me sit down and watch as she performed an incredible striptease for me. She'd even learned to extend her tongue and lick her own nipples.

- "So when can I meet your friends in Atlanta?" she asked - more than once.

She would have recognized Janine immediately. So Lillian stood in as my 'friend', apologizing that her husband was away on business.

- "You know, you look a little familiar." said Breanna.

- "Do you go to Wal-Mart?" said Lillian.

Breanna was thrilled to learn that I was thinking of relocating to Atlanta - that was something Lillian let slip. I wouldn't have said such a thing, but it had quite an effect on Breanna.

We did quite a bit of reaping and sowing that weekend. And some threshing, too.

***

Tampa. Tamara had gotten a make-over. She'd had her hair styled, and her bikini line waxed. She'd also had some help with her makeup.

- "You look fantastic." I told her. "You know, though - you didn't have to go changing for me. I was hooked the first time I saw you."

She liked that, because it echoed the way she'd felt. Tamara wanted contact. We made love - tenderly, gently, with just a little suppressed passion. But what she really needed were the hugs, the hand holding, and especially the cuddling in bed.

***

Brugges. Elodie and Christiane seemed really happy to see me. It was almost like a reunion with old high school friends.

They'd been following my web page, and attended the new show. Elodie loved the book routine. I read her mind, of course. It was ... unsettling. She loved Christiane - absolutely, and irrevocably. Yet she had these little stirrings ... she couldn't help wondering what it would be like with me ... how it would feel, and how I would go about pleasing her (because she knew that I would).

Christiane didn't have those kinds of thoughts about me. Instead, she was off in a completely different direction. She loved the fact that she and Elodie could share a new friendship that had begun simultaneously for them. It wasn't like most of their other friends, who'd been close to Christiane before they met Elodie.

***

Athens. Irene met me on the isle of Rhodes. Fantastic place, lovely woman.

- "I can't believe that you came back." she said.

- "You doubted me? Irene - you're my Penelope. Except that it won't take me ten years to come back to you. Look in a mirror, please - see what I do."

She was such a beautiful woman, but she couldn't seem to get over her boyfriend's betrayal. All the reassurance, all of the positive reinforcement I gave her seemed to barely move the needle. It was like standing at the gas station, filling your tank - except that after 15 minutes, the tank was still only 1/8 full.

We made love - and it was very sweet. Emotional, and wonderful. And yet she worried that I didn't care for her as much as she did for me.

***

Osaka. Ri was sad. Her hours at the dentist's office had been cut back, and the loss of income was cutting into her purchases of new clothing.

I didn't know how she'd take it if I offered her cash. She wasn't too proud to accept a gift from me, though; I took her on a shopping spree, and picked up the tab. That cheered her up quite a bit.

She decided to thank me by dressing up in her most expensive outfit. It was a traditional kimono - light blue, with red and pink flowers all over it. The wide belt, or sash (called an obi) was gold-coloured.