Silver Light, Golden Shadows Ch. 01

It was late, but the knocking at the door didn't stop. My watch said it was 1:10 in the morning. Geez... this is what a guy gets for being to cheap to rent an actual office. See, I'm a professional wizard. Yes. Wizard. Not magician. Those cheap hacks think pulling a rabbit out of a hat, or making a penny disappear, makes them "Masters of the Mystic". Please. Try making the alligator that showed up in a 7th floor psychiatrists office, and which keeps reappearing no matter how many times it's removed by animal control, disappear. Actual, that's unfair. That alligator's name was Carlos, and he was in fact very nice. As it turned out he had been hexed when he tried to eat a wizard. Anyway, I get all sorts of weirdos showing up at my door, but never in the middle of the night. The doorman was supposed to stop this sort of thing. Slipping feet into slippers by the bed, I decided to go and disabuse whoever was at the door of waking the whole damn building. I shuffled through the lounge room, and out into the small entryway.

Looking through the peep hole revealed someone unexpected. No wonder the doorman hadn't stopped her.

Alex is a friend. My best friend. Okay, one of my only friends. Let's not be dicks about it. She's registered as such, so she can get through the building's security any time, day or night. Tonight, she seemed unkempt, her hair tousled as though she had come straight from bed. Her clothes supported that. Or rather, her pyjamas supported that. But there was the problem: I had known Alex for 7 years at this point, and she had stayed at my place a handful of times. And those were the only times I had seen her in her pyjamas. Or with bed-hair for that matter. Leaving the chain on, I opened the door a crack.

"Allie?" I asked, a skeptical lilt to my voice, "Is that you?"

"Yes, of course it's me! Open the door, please! Hurry up!" She almost sobbed, a panic to her voice. I closed the door, slid the chain across, and opened the door fully. I didn't invite her in though. That would've been asking for trouble. Wizards learn early that you NEVER ask someone in unless you're absolutely certain you can trust them. And something about this just didn't smell right. Then again, the hot water was out again, and I hadn't showered the night before, so it could've been me.

She practically tumbled across the threshold. Well, that was that. It was Alex all right. A shape changer would've been unable to cross, and an illusion would've been stripped away the moment she stepped through the door. Alex is also pretty clumsy... so, there was that.

"What's going on?" I asked her, ushering her through to the lounge room. It wasn't a big room, but there was an old leather couch (ancient, as Alex had told me time and time again) and my big leather reading chair. She dropped into the chair, ignoring the slightly peeved raised eyebrow that earned her. That is my chair. The couch was for guests. She knew that. The expression died quickly. She knew that. So why would she... unless she was seriously distraught. Squatting down on my haunches, a gentle hand under the chin raised her eyes to mine, as I repeated the question, more gently this time.

"What's going on Allie? What's wrong?" She took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself. Then her body began to shake and shudder. It only lasted 35 seconds, but when it finally subsided Alex seemed breathless, and she began to weep again.

"Allie, did you just..." the question trailed off as she looked up at me, murder in her eyes. Then she threw her head back and cried out as her body began convulsing again, stronger this time.

Now, it has to be said, Alex was a very attractive woman. She was about 5'5", with a mane of rich brown hair. She had a toned midriff, slightly flared hips, and well muscled legs. Her chest was well developed, but not so much so that it dominated her figure, and her ass was shapely in such a way that it didn't detracting from her petite appearance. We had met when we were 14, dated for a year when we were 16, then decided we couldn't have that kind of relationship. It had been rough for the first couple of weeks, but then we kind of fell back into old routines. Even now, we're close. To the point that more than one of her boyfriends has cited me as "that guy" when breaking up with her. And I have to admit, I still find her VERY attractive. But I haven't made a move since we broke up.

Despite this, I could not deny that I became slightly aroused. In the space of a minute, she had climaxed twice. My arousal died a little when I realised I was probably going to have to clean my chair. Leather can be a real bitch to clean.

Broken from my thoughts by another sob from Alex, I shifted a little to conceal my... anyway, and spoke to her again, with a little more authority in my voice this time.

"Allie, please, you need to talk to me. What is going on?"

"I... I can't..." she groaned breathily, "I can't stop... can't stop..." she crested again, head thrown back in ecstasy, her back arching in such a way that it made for an extremely interesting sight. "Please," she sobbed, "please it hurts. You have to help me."

I was speechless for a moment, before I regained my composure, and ran to my study. I'm not the kind of wizard who uses newts eyes, bears teeth, nightshade roots, or any other weird magic ingredients. Magic comes from within. Some cultures call it the soul. Others called it mana, or aura. Aura is the one we use in my family. My aura is a brilliant, shimmering gold. It's so strong that, with a little will power, I can condense it into a solid form, a suit of golden armour. It's a great party trick. Any who, most of my work is in researching the right spell for the right job. That's why I need a comfy reading chair. As I strode into the room, I held out my hand. An ornate walking stick flew into my open palm. I walked over to one of the three big bookcases. The study is much larger inside than should be physically possible. To anyone but myself and a privileged few, the door doesn't even appear to exist. Otherwise I'm sure I would've lost my bond on this place during the first inspection. As I climbed one of the big ladders, I started speaking.

"Thoughts, Archie?" No reply. " oh don't pretend you weren't watching. I know you too well for that." From over by the desk, I heard a feline yawn.

"Well, if you really want my thoughts..." issued a bored sounding British voice from the same direction.

"Archie," I cut it off, half turning on the ladder to look at the cat, "helpful thoughts only."

"You spoil all my fun. You know that? How long has it been since a woman has done... well... *that* in this apartment? For that matter, how long has it been since a woman was in this apartment?" He asked, archly.

"Helpful. Thoughts. Only." I said, tone leaving no room for further discussion. "Surely you of all... things... have to have something for this?"

"Turning women ON is my interest. Turning them off is your area of expertise." Without turning from where I was running my eyes across the titles of heavy tomes, I drew a length of ivory from the handle of my walking stick, pointed it as the cat, and smiled to myself at the startled hiss he made when a buckets worth of water left him drenched.

"Try to be more helpful." I said evenly, replacing the wand. He muttered something low enough that I couldn't make it out, though I got the distinct impression he wasn't paying me a compliment. I climbed back down the ladder, and turned to walk out. I flicked the wand out and in the direction of the fireplace, a roaring blaze cropping up within. Archie moved to lay on the hearth, stretching himself out to dry off. For all that he infuriated me at time, I honestly like the guy. I just wish he could be a bit more helpful and a bit less of a perv sometimes.

As I returned to the lounge, I was greeted by the sight of Alex, back arched, looking honestly stunning in the midst of what I could be forgiven for having thought was pleasure. I calmly walked over, steadied myself, then placed my hand on her forehead. She slumped back in the chair, asleep. That would give her some small reprieve. Not to mention, buy me some time to work out if what was causing this was magical. I opened the book I had bought with me, sat down on the couch, and started reading.

I looked up half an hour later, closing the book, and glanced over at Alex to see that she was okay. I sighed. As I had expected, the book was useless. Less than useless. Very gently, I slipped one arm under her knees and one around behind her shoulders. Careful not to disturb her, I carried her to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. I checked that Archie was still in the study, hearing his feline snores, as I saw him asleep in front of the fireplace. I "locked" the door, raising a barrier that Archie couldn't slip through. Doors have very little meaning to Familiars. I walked back to the bedroom, found the pair of pyjamas that Alex had left here after she had had a particularly nasty fight with her parents ("Just in case"), and moved back over to the bed. I decided to start with her top. She was drenched in sweat, to the point that her crop top singlet was clinging to her pale skin. I raised her shoulders and peeled her top off her. Despite trying to maintain my composure, I am only human, and the sight of her perky breasts was enough to give me pause: her nipples were standing proud from her chest, hard enough to cut diamond. Catching myself before a glance became staring, I proceeded to gently lift her hips, sliding my hands under the waistband of her cotton shorts, and down the outside of her legs taking the garment, which my nose informed me was sticky with more than just sweat, with them. I walked to the small laundry/bathroom, placed the soiled nightclothes in the washing machine, and set it going. I then washed my hands, filled a basin with warm water, and fetched a wash cloth and towel.

I won't sugar coat it. I bathed her before dressing her again. Anyone who has ever slept in damp, sweaty pyjamas knows how awful it is. Magically induced sleep is no different. Some practitioners have said it's actually worse. I started with her neck, working my way down, drying her off as I went. I was especially careful of her breasts, as if I caused too much stimulation it could break the sleep I had cast on her. As the rugged cloth brushed over her nipple, Alex gasped. I paused like a deer caught in headlights. When she didn't wake, I moved on, prepared for the small moan that escaped her lips as the cloth rubbed over her other nipple. I avoider her pelvis for the time being, knowing that the greatest challenge would be cleaning her pussy. Washing down her legs slowly, giving her overstimulated body as much time as I could to unwind from the precipice, I finally couldn't put it off any longer. I gently sponged off her taut ass-cheeks, then began the delicate process of cleaning her pussy. A few times I had to stop as Alex moaned in her sleep. This didn't help, as small amounts of lubrication leaked from between her lips, mingling with the water that I had yet to dry off her. Finally finished, I looked at the wet cover. Luckily, it was only the duvet which was wet, not the sheets underneath. I took the quilt off the bed, figuring a heavy blanket wouldn't help matters any, before dressing her, and pulling the sheets up over her. I fetched the light blanket that I use during the summer, gently laying it over her sleeping form. As I left her to rest, I raised a new barrier, this time around my bedroom. Alex and Archie know each other. They know each other, and they know that they don't like each other.

Taking the heavy winter blanket with me, I tossed it in the laundry on my way past, stopping to put her freshly washed pyjamas in the tumble dryer. I wasn't worried about the duvet. Winter was nearly over, so I would've been washing it and putting it away for the next 6 months soon anyway. I spent 15 minutes cleaning the cushion of my chair, before finally feeling clear-headed enough to get back to work. I lowered the wards around the study and opened the door. Archie was still fast asleep. 'Must be nice to be a cat' I thought to myself, stifling a yawn. Leaving my walking stick by the door, I turned on the coffee pot. It was looking to be a long night.

***************

Authors Note:

My dear readers,

I do so hope you have enjoyed this preliminary release of what i plan to be an ongoing work. Feel free to leave a comment with any questions, thoughts, or critiques.

All characters are fictional. Any similarities to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.

Until next time,

Wynston Fairchilde.

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