Sylvia, a Witch, and a Demon

Sylvia was comfortable under a few blankets on her love seat. She was watching and laughing at one of her favorite shows as the night passed when she felt her phone go off. Patting around at the fluffy coverings, she found her cellphone after a few seconds of searching and read the notification. It was a text from her friend Gwen.

"Hey, girl. You should really come by and visit me at work tonight :)" the message read.

Sylvia smirked to herself and started tapping out a response. Gwen worked at her favorite bar. She was probably bored, or drunk, sneaking shots while tending bar.

"Oh, yeah? But what if I already have plans with my couch?" Sylvia sent and looked back at her TV, keeping her phone in her hand until it buzzed again.

"That's why you need to come here. You won't have any fun at home."

Sylvia rolled her eyes. Another two message came in.

"Plus there's this really Pagan-looking girl here having a good time talking to strangers."

"She's totally your type ;) Big Witch Energy, LOL."

Sylvia raised her eyebrows after reading the text and tilted her head slightly to lean on her hand. Why did she tell Gwen things like that in confidence? But after a moment she looked at the time, not too early, not too late. She could at least stop by the bar for a couple drinks and a chat with Gwen. If witchy girl was still there, hey, maybe they could flirt a bit.

"Okay, fine, a drink and some spells sounds fun :p" she messaged Gwen back, "I'm getting ready, be there soon."

"HA! I knew that would grab your interest," came Gwen's text. "See you! I'll try my best to keep her here ;)"

Sylvia sat up, pushing the blankets back and turned off the TV. She stood and walked over to her mirror. Her hair was still in good shape from the day. She hadn't taken her makeup off yet and she could just touch up. Yeah, fine. This night was happening.

She went to her closet and started to peruse, standing there in her comfy pajama shirt and shorts. Tucking her shoulder length, straight black hair behind her ears, she started pulling probable tops and bottoms from the closet and laid them on her bed. She sifted through the clothes, settling on a gothy-grunge look by combining some blood red leggings, high-waisted black jean shorts, and a dark grey open sided top that would show off a decorative black bra. She pulled on some light boots with a slight heel and hung a silver pendant necklace around her neck. Her hair got a toss and a smoothing before she sat at her vanity desk and fixed her makeup.

Surveying herself in the mirror a last time, Sylvia gathered her essentials into a clutch, threw on a jacket, and left her small apartment.

The bar Gwen worked at, The Central, was literally two blocks away from where Sylvia lived, so she was happy to walk. It was a cool, breezy night. The moon shone brighter than the lamp posts that lined the street. She left her block, moving to the next one down where the small businesses, bars and restaurants started popping up. Approaching The Central, Sylvia could see lines of people both entering and exiting the doorway. It was a busy night for barcrawlers, apparently.

She showed her ID at the door and pressed her way inside through the crowded entrance way. Looking to the main bar, Sylvia spied Gwen turned around, her blonde ponytail flicking to the side as she looked for fresh glasses. The chairs at the bar were all taken, but as Sylvia came in someone was just leaving their seat. She quickly moved to claim it, skidding into the chair just as Gwen turned around and smiled a beaming smile.

"Yes! There you are!" she said, voice loud over the establishment's music.

"Good to be here," Sylvia grinned back.

"Yeah, good to drink here too," said Gwen. "Want your favorite?"

Sylvia nodded, and seconds later, before she even had her jacket off, Gwen scooted her a gin and tonic with lime.

"Busy night," observed Sylvia, scanning the room. She searched through the tables, all full of friends talking, laughing, snacking and drinking.

"And who are you looking for?" Gwen asked slyly. "A certain magic woman perhaps?"

"You were the one who bated me here with that promise." Sylvia playfully snapped back, blushing the tiniest bit. "Did she leave already?"

Gwen just looked to the left of Sylvia, widening her eyes and rolling her lips in as an English accented voice to the side said, "No, she's decided to stay, in fact."

Sylvia turned to see a young woman leaning on the bar next to her. She had short, mousy brown hair, shaved close to the scalp on one side. A thin face with a fine jawline held eyes of pure, pure blue. The girl smirked a coy, half smile and Sylvia saw cute dimples dip in her cheeks. She was petite with a gorgeous figure and was dressed in clothes that looked like they were maybe 40 years too old and threadbare. But she made the thrift store style look cool, intriguing really. One of the sleeves of her button up blouse was torn from the shoulder seam to just above the elbow, perhaps intentionally, perhaps not, exposing her upper arm and the angular lines of a runic tattoo.

"You must be Sylvia. Your friend has told me a lot about you," the woman said, her British accent drawing Sylvia in and making her flush more than she would have normally. "She says you've always wanted to be a Witch."

"Gwen!" said Sylvia, glaring at her friend who was suddenly and conveniently busy behind the bar, "is a bit of an over-sharer."

The young woman raised up a wineglass and took a sip of red wine then set her glass on the counter top and leaned in closer to Sylvia.

"I'm Rochelle," she said, with their elbows bumped together, "and I'd love to hear about it." Sylvia could smell the wine in the glass, or maybe on Rochelle's tongue, floral, deep, sweetly oaken.

"Hear about what?"

"All of it," she said. "You. What you want. Why you want it." Rochelle studied Sylvia's face. "I've got a lot I could tell you," she said. Her fingernail lightly tapped against the side of her glass. "If you mean it."

"Mean what?" asked Sylvia. It was noisy all around them, but they had taken their voices lower. Rochelle continued gazing into Sylvia's eyes, seeming to look past the surface of them, past the turning, working mind that saw out of them and into somewhere more intimate.

Sylvia suddenly shivered, not with cold, but that was the closest sensation she knew to compare the feeling to. She broke eye contact with Rochelle and looked down at the counter. Her hands were giving off the slightest shake as she raised her drink to her lips and took a sip. As she set her glass down, Rochelle put a hand over hers. Her fingers wrapped around Sylvia's palm in reassurance, she felt steadied.

As soon as Sylvia looked back to Rochelle, she was met with a kind smile.

"Do you believe in the Arcane?" Rochelle asked simply.

"I...I..." stuttered Sylvia. What was this? Any other person asking this question she would have dismissed immediately. But there was something about the presence of Rochelle, some uncanny rightness, some truthfulness about her.

"Yes. I believe in it," Sylvia said, scarcely brave enough to admit this to herself, let alone someone she had just met. She didn't think she could keep going. She did though. "I've never seen it. Never seen a person who used it. But I believe in it."

"Ah," whispered Rochelle, smiling wide. She had very white, even teeth. "That's good, Sylvia. That's very good. You just made your first step."

"It takes a lot to admit something like that for the first time," continued Rochelle, "I'm proud of you." She raised her left hand up just above the counter and held it a few inches above the rim of Sylvia's glass. Her right hand was still softly grasping Sylvia's.

"You aren't mistaken," Rochelle said, and flicked her azure eyes to Sylvia's drink. The ice and lime floating inside started moving, swirling around in the glass as Rochelle kept her hand hovering above. Nothing was touching the glass.

Sylvia gasped, watching the spinning in her drink, the green rind of the lime smearing and blurring in her vision as it rounded the glass.

Suddenly, a single, small piece of ice flew up from the others and levitated between their faces. Sylvia studied it intently, then saw that Rochelle was watching her expression. They were only inches apart from one another, leaning in together among the cramped bar. The sliver of ice moved away from Sylvia, toward Rochelle, slowly being attracted to the Witch's lips. Rochelle opened her mouth as the ice approached her and let it come to rest delicately on her pink tongue. She closed her mouth and said nothing, only looking at Sylvia expectantly.

"I want..." began Sylvia, voice trembling, not sure of how to finish her sentence. She wanted so many things at that moment.

"I want to be a Witch," she fiercely whispered to Rochelle.

Rochelle inhaled, smiling as she did. She paused for an intense five seconds, then answered, "Good."

--

For the next hour, Rochelle and Sylvia were locked in conversation. They had moved from the bartop to a small, two person table in one of the side alcoves. Sylvia's questions had come spilling out. Some of Rochelle's answers let Sylvia form a foundation to plant herself on in this newly revealed reality, but some only led to more questions.

As they enjoyed each other's company and a few rounds of drinks, Rochelle was open and eager to share answers about what Witches could do or the different kinds of magic there were to master. She even explained that Sylvia's first move after becoming a Witch should be to join the Coven that Rochelle belonged in. But she wouldn't reply to Sylvia's most pressing question:

"How do I become a Witch?"

"I'm sorry, Sylvia, you wouldn't want me to answer that. There are rules," she said for the third time as Sylvia asked again.

"Rules from the Coven?" Sylvia probed. "Maybe I don't need them if they keep their members from helping me."

"It's not like that," Rochelle sighed, looking exasperated. "It isn't a rule from the Coven or a rule that anyone made at all. It's more fundamental. Please just believe that I'm trying to help you when I don't answer."

"You can tell me all about being a Witch," began Sylvia, "you can tell me about your secret Coven, you can even prove to me the existence of real Magic, but you can't tell me how to become a Witch!?"

Rochelle weathered Sylvia's frustration, taking a sip of her wine. She looked sympathetic as she replied.

"I couldn't have summed up the situation any more succinctly than that, love."

The two women stared at each other. Sylvia crossed her arms and hardened her face, Rochelle looked back, impassive, then broke the silence.

"I think I really like you, so please don't be angry with me," she said plainly.

Sylvia blinked, her posture relaxing noticeably as Rochelle's confession disarmed her.

"I...like you too," Sylvia said quietly. "I'm starting to get it, I think," she began again after her words hung in the air between them. "You want me to do this on my own. A person can only become a Witch if they seek it out themselves? No one can tell them how to do it?"

Rochelle was still and silent. A perfect poker face.

"If you told me a way to get magic, it wouldn't work?" asked Sylvia, and Rochelle remained motionless, only looking back at her.

"Even if you told me that I had to do it alone it wouldn't work," Sylvia said, more to herself than to Rochelle, who took a drink of wine and casually observed the room.

"I'll figure it out on my own," declared Sylvia. As soon as she said this, Rochelle broke her impassivity and smiled in relief.

"Wonderful, now I can stop walking on eggshells, afraid I was going to ruin it for you," Rochelle said, becoming her open, kind self once again. "You have to make the pact with yourself. Now that you have, you know what you need to do."

"You are going to love it, Sylvia. The whole world opens when you get your power. It's like you gain another set of senses. Arcane versions of sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. It lets you do incredible things, even without casting proper spells."

Sylvia leaned forward, intrigued, chin resting on her hands.

"What can you sense right now?" she asked.

"Well, there's you, of course," Rochelle said, her mouth half twisting to a smile. "You've got quite the aura blazing away right now." She turned in her chair, leaning back slightly and scanning the room full of people.

"There's energy flying all over the place when people are having fun, bonding, friendships and flirtations getting stronger." Rochelle came back around and looked over Sylvia's shoulder to the table nearest them. She gave a sudden look of interest.

"Now that's something," she muttered, studying the couple who sat there. The man and woman had been sitting before Sylvia and Rochelle arrived. They were clearly a couple, young, attractive, in the prime of life, their easily flowing conversation and comfortable body language showed off intimacy.

"Something I can tell, for example," Rochelle said, "that man and woman are a strong couple, of course, but there's something else they are throwing off. In the back of their minds they're both wishing for the same thing."

"What are they wishing for?"

"I can't paint a picture for you, it's more like I can see two vibrations waving at the exact same frequency. It's not something reachable they want, and it's not something they're thinking about consciously right now. It's more like, a fantasy."

Rochelle stopped then and her cheeks reddened.

"Yes. That's actually exactly what it is. They each have the same fantasy but have never told each other." Rochelle then sighed, looking a twinge sad.

"You mean a sexual fantasy?" asked Sylvia.

"That's what I'd put my money on," Rochelle nodded. "And they're fine. Totally happy. But it seems so unfair that they both would love this fantasy to happen but it won't. I don't know what it is, but they way they hold it, it's something impossible."

Sylvia looked at Rochelle with raised eyebrows and said, "Unless someone were to grant their wish."

Rochelle smirked and then took a swig of wine, emptying her glass. She stood up and winked at Sylvia, then walked toward the couple's table. As she passed their table she turned and started to walk a slow circle around them.

The couple didn't notice Rochelle as she made one, two, three complete passes around them, making light hand gestures in the direction of the man and woman each time she circled.

She came back to Sylvia at the table, smiling.

"You did it?" asked Sylvia. "You made it so it would happen?"

"My spell was to make their mutual fantasy possible. It's up to them now." Rochelle looked at her now empty glass on the table, Sylvia's almost empty as well.

"Fancy another drink?"

"Actually," Sylvia said, "I think I'm ready to get out of here."

She stood up and kissed Rochelle, whose lips parted in surprise. And then Sylvia was being kissed back, getting lost in the gentle closeness of Rochelle's mouth and breath. She tasted just like Sylvia had imagined. Floral, deep, sweetly oaken.

--

Sylvia led the young Witch out of the bar and back to her apartment. After they entered the building and climbed the stairs they came to Sylvia's door. She ran her hand along Rochelle's arm and kissed her again before unlocking the door and pushing it open. Sylvia turned to her and lightly touched her upper back.

"Come on in," she said.

"Okay then," smiled Rochelle, and they walked inside.

Sylvia shut and locked the door. Rochelle went a few steps in and observed the small living room, then she caught Sylvia's hungry gaze as she came to her. They pressed into each other, their lips meeting in sweetness. Sylvia brought her hands up and held the sides of Rochelle's face as they kissed, drew breath and kissed again. Rochelle's arms were wrapped around Sylvia's waist, pulling her nice and tight. She was about half a head shorter than Sylvia, her face tilting up in Sylvia's hands and kissing her back energetically.

Sylvia moved her hands to comb them through Rochelle's hair. The left side slipping like silk between her fingers, the right side feeling like a hundred thousand brush bristles as her hand slid over the section of her hair that was buzzed short.

They swayed and bumped into the couch, Rochelle leaned partially against it as Sylvia leaned against her. Their legs were overlapping. Sylvia felt one of Rochelle's legs in between hers and hugged it with her own. Rochelle touched the smooth arch of Sylvia's back, running her hands up and down her spine.

Their kisses were deepening, breathing growing into gasping as their tongues delicately explored. Sylvia kept her lips locked on Rochelle but pushed her body back slightly. Her hands then steadily slid down Rochelle's neck, over her collar bones, down to the roundness of her breasts, past them to her flat stomach, then back up again to cup the Witch's chest gently.

Rochelle sighed as Sylvia felt her body, her own hands moving from the young woman's back to her hips, thumbs feeling the front of Sylvia's shorts and the bumps of her hip bones beneath.

Sylvia set about kissing Rochelle's neck, going tenderly, finding the different spots that Rochelle was sensitive in, particularly the underside corner of her jaw, the hollows of her clavicle, and where her shoulder began.

Rochelle squirmed in a slow, pleased fashion as Sylvia kissed her, hooking one arm around Sylvia's shoulder, the other feeling the side of Sylvia's body, going from her waist to the sides of her bra. She took advantage of the open sided shirt which Sylvia wore, hand trailing over warm skin and the lace of the bra where it lay.

Starting to kiss each other again, Sylvia began working the buttons of Rochelle's blouse open. Halfway down, Rochelle lifted Sylvia's own top off and ran her hands up and down Sylvia's beautiful body. The silver necklace she had put on before going out had stayed around her neck as Rochelle had removed her shirt, and now it fell and tucked in Sylvia's cleavage, catching the light as it tumbled.

Sylvia finished undoing Rochelle's buttons and stripped the blouse off. Rochelle was wearing a pretty red bra underneath. Her bust seemed a little larger than average for her petite frame and her breasts were held up enticingly by the full undergarment. Sylvia bent to kiss Rochelle's inviting cleavage, and as she did she felt Rochelle start squeezing her ass, a hand occasionally dipping lower to touch the sensitive area of her upper thigh.

Pulling back for a moment, Sylvia knelt and started undoing the laces of Rochelle's shoes, getting them off quickly. She then stood up and leaned against the back of the couch herself, raising a foot to Rochelle who helped her out of her boots. She sidled back towards Rochelle and kissed her again, one hand grasping a breast, the other settling between the Witch's legs.

Rochelle responded by grabbing the top of Sylvia's shorts and tugging her closer. She began undoing the line of buttons that fastened the shorts, getting them unclasped deftly. She worked Sylvia's pants off, then peeled down the tight leggings to the knees. Sylvia giggled and finished removing the leggings herself, standing on one foot then the other.

In just her bra and panties now, Sylvia knelt again in front of Rochelle and started undoing the button and zipper of Rochelle's old jeans. She pulled down on each pant leg and Rochelle helped her by wiggling out of the tight pants. As the jeans came off, Sylvia planted slow kisses against Rochelle's lower belly, just above her panties, down across her hips, and all over her thighs.

Sylvia's kisses traveled back up Rochelle's body as she raised herself to the height of Rochelle's bra. She reached behind Rochelle's back and unclasped it, then slid each strap off its shoulder. She watched one fall in front of the tattoo on Rochelle's upper arm as the Witch removed her arms from the loops of her undone bra. Her gorgeously perfect tits drew in Sylvia's mouth like a magnet. Her sensitive skin and nipples got the attention they craved as Sylvia licked and sucked at them passionately. Rochelle's nipples were a bright pink and were pointed like tiny peaks. Already stiff, they hardened further as Sylvia tended to them, listening to Rochelle's sighs and moans.