The Businessman and the Witchdoctor

As a person, she was the sort of famous-for-being-famous celebutante he'd always despised. As a neighbor, she was also a loud, intrusive, pushy, and downright mean-spirited member of the community. She held parties every weekend with the music so loud he could feel it in his bones next door; meanwhile, she'd used her clout with the homeowner's association to levy such heavy fines on the property behind her that they'd actually had to move out – all because she'd found the color of their home offensive and refused to repaint it when she complained.

But she was also undeniably gorgeous, in a way that would tell even someone who'd never met her that she wasn't just attractive; she was a celebrity who'd gotten by entirely on those looks. She was one of the sexiest women he'd ever seen, and he couldn't to never hear that condescending voice of hers say anything more than "yes, sir."

She was going to be his mindless fuck puppet, right up until he got bored of her.

He'd thought this all out well in advance, so there was no hesitating in his response. "Jada Ballard."

"You know this woman."

It didn't sound like a question, but Arthur felt compelled to answer anyway. "Yeah. She's my neighbor."

Dega Ualu slid his hands across the table, palm up. "Concentrate on the girl."

"Oh, we're doing this now?" Arthur was surprised. He didn't want to think what this implied, if this man could do this to her from miles away. Dega Ualu simply held his hands in place, and so Arthur had no choice but to take them in his and see what happened.

There was a surprising warmth to the man's grip, and it only intensified as he maintained it. He didn't so much as squeeze Arthur's fingers; his hand position didn't change from when they were open on the table. Arthur pictured Jada, her smug, beautiful, snobby face, wiped clean of emotion and docilely scurrying to obey him. He'd start with tearing down that eyesore pink marble statue and fountain she'd installed. Then a nice long blowjob. Then another.

"Jada Ballard, your ass belongs to me." He grinned at the thought of what was in store for that bitch.

There was a sudden flash of heat, and suddenly Arthur's hands were knocked back like there'd been a miniature explosion in Dega Ualu's palms. Had the man pushed, or had something else actually happened?

"It is done."

"That's it?"

"Her ass, as you say, belongs to you now. Go. See for yourself."

Arthur eyed him suspiciously, but his deep eyes still betrayed nothing. "All right, I guess. And no offense, man, but I hope we never need to meet again."

The witch doctor made no reply. As he brushed past her by the door, the girl adopted an utterly fake smile and waved at him with her pistol. "Goodbye, Mr. Bowman. Thank you for seeking the counsel of the Witch Doctor Dega Ualu."

When Arthur got home, he started with some painkillers and a long bath to help him forget the throbbing pain in his chest from the gunshot. What had that old coot – or was he a young fool? he still wasn't sure – been thinking? Arthur hadn't told anyone he was going there, for obvious reasons; if he'd been murdered, likely no one would have ever caught the killer.

The combination of medicine and wine proved too much for him, and Arthur didn't wake up until well into the next day. His chest felt better, but still had one hell of a bruise. It was Saturday now, and while that didn't mean a day off, not for a man in his position, it did mean no one had missed him at the office. He had a glass of juice and some toast, and while he ate, he peered out the window at the Ballard house.

As luck would have it, Jada was actually in a good position to be observed, out working on her garden. Which is to say, she was berating the people she'd hired to work on it for her. Two years back, she'd called ICE on a man because, she'd complained, he'd left her rose bush "too thorny." Today she was taking a hands off approach, which was to say she was sipping tea on the deck in sunglasses while watching them hawkishly to make sure they didn't try to steal anything.

"No time like the present," Arthur muttered to himself as he slipped on some comfortable clothes and headed out into his own back yard. Yards in this neighborhood were expansive; casual encounters between neighbors having a barbeque on the same night simply did not happen by coincidence. After pretending to inspect his own modest flower bed for a moment, he made his way over to the fenceline and waved in greeting.

"Good morning, Jada!" he called. Even here at the border of their two properties, it was shouting distance.

Jada didn't bother yelling back; she just raised her glass of tea to him and gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

"Do you have a moment? I wanted to talk something over with you," he pressed. Not really, of course, but there would be an oral component to it. That thought helped him maintain a smile.

He could read her disinterest in speaking to him in the pause before she stood and sashayed down to him. Fuck, but she was beautiful. Nobody who was that much of a brat had any business with such a face, such a body. She had a loose-fitting robe on, but beneath that he was pretty sure it was just a one-piece swimsuit.

"Yes, Artie?" she said as she grew close. She knew full well how much he hated the nickname. The first couple times he'd said something she'd pretended she'd forgotten, and thereafter insisted she'd just internalized Artie and was beyond correction.

Time for a test, Arthur thought. "Tell me kindly what time you have on your phone," he said, careful to phrase it as an imperative. Then, to be less awkward in case it failed, he added, "I think I had some kind of electrical surge last night, and mine's going all schizo."

"I left my phone up by the house. Don't you have a clock in your house? Just use that." Her tone was dripping irritation at being summoned for such a stupid request.

"Right, right," Arthur said. Damnit, did he have to make it a direct command? Maybe she'd heard a question mark on the first request. He tried again, looking out to where the workers were planting a fresh flower bed. "Tell me who your new gardeners are."

She arched an eyebrow. "Aren't they just wonderful? They're apparently one of the best landscaping firms in the region. They do the governor's mansion. My publicist had a connection, that was the only reason I could get in their schedule. Looks like you'll have to keep relying on... whoever did... that." She waved a dismissive hand at the scraggly remains of the vegetable garden he'd attempted last year.

"Oh that was all me – trying to get a few fresh zucchini going, but I couldn't get them to grow to save my life." Inwardly he was fuming. How could she be resisting? If Dega Ualu had conned him, there was going to be a reckoning.

"Ah, no wonder. I'm sure your little company keeps you busy. Maybe take some time off, try some delegating. You could try to meet a nice older woman, see if she can help you get your tiny zucchini to grow some." She smirked over her shoulder as she turned to leave. Typical fucking Jada, unable to be civil for two minutes.

"I'm gonna shove my zucchini up your ass, Jada!" he snapped at her back. Some of the gardeners looked over in surprise, but quickly returned to their task. This was nothing the help would want to get involved in.

Jada stopped. Just stopped, twenty feet from the fence. Finally she glanced over her shoulder at him, an impatient expression on that painfully pretty face. "Well? I have places to be."

Arthur spat a parting shot over the fence line before storming to his car and making a beeline for Dega Ualu's trailer park.

"The Witch Doctor Dega Ualu isn't here," intoned the girl. His girl. Arthur had found her lying out on a towel in the small patch of grass in front of the trailer. This time, her body was concealed only by the skimpiest of bikinis. She was on her front at present, the top untied in the back and the bottom barely making an appearance from where it emerged between her shapely buttocks. It almost distracted him from his fury. Almost.

Arthur ignored her, pounding on the door of the trailer once he found it locked. "You in there, you damn thief?! Huh? You in there?!"

"The Witch Doctor Dega Ualu isn't–"

He continued over her. "You have five seconds to open this shit door before I kick it in, and your ass is next, doc! You hear me?! Five! Four! Three... You know what, fuck it." He gave the door a hard kick. It creaked heavily, and he had little doubt a few more would stove in.

"The key is underneath that rock," the woman said, pointing calmly.

Arthur glared at her before kicking the rock aside. Sure enough, there was a key. He'd been looking forward to doing this the hard way, but there was enough civility in him not to want to be barbaric if the alternative were so simple.

Inside, the trailer looked much as it had, save that it was empty. Arthur double-checked the bathroom, under the bed, even in the large cabinets under the counter, but there was no sign of his quarry. Angrily, he stepped back outside.

"When will he be back?" he demanded of the girl. While he'd been inside, she'd rolled over, revealing the two tiny leopard-print triangles over her nipples. The patch of fabric over her mons pubis matched in pattern and in degree of coverage. Normal stories didn't sell bikinis this size; either she'd special ordered it, or was wearing something made for a child.

"Not until after you are gone, Mr. Bowman," she answered vaguely.

"I don't think so. I'll wait here all day if that's what it takes."

"Then perhaps he will be back tomorrow," she opined, seeming to wonder aloud. "I know only what he told me."

He frowned at her, though his anger didn't seem to register with her. After a few minutes pacing around, he was calm enough to attempt a discussion. "So, did he say anything about how he fucked me over? What he's going to do to protect his scrawny ass before I beat it into the ground?"

"Why would you desire to harm the great Dega Ualu?" she asked, a hint of puzzlement touching her otherwise monotone voice.

""For stealing my fucking money, that's why!" he snapped.

"Nothing was stolen from you, Arthur Bowman. You made an exchange. A portion of your power for a portion of the great Dega Ualu's. I heard you make this deal." She took a deep breath, and it looked like it nearly burst her tit free from its meager confinement.

"Yeah, and I held up my end, but the rat bastard flaked on his! The woman didn't do a thing I said. She was... well, nothing likeyou, that's for damn sure!"

"Like me?"

"Yeah, a stupid obedient slut who knows to do what the fuck she's told." He glowered down at her.

She smiled softly, but only for a moment. "You know me too well," she said, "though perhaps I am too simple to know now. But you did not tell the great Dega Ualu you wanted her to be like me. Do you not remember?"

"What do you mean? Of course that's what I wanted. He went through that whole 'you want what every man wants' bullshit, and if a pet like you isn't what every man wants, then I've exclusively met the wrong kind of man."

"Perhaps I am what you wanted, but I am not what you asked for. Do you not remember, Mr. Bowman?"

"I remember just fine. We held hands, I gave him the name, focused on the bitch's face, and bam, he said it was a done deal."

"The Witch Doctor Dega Ualu can grant ownership of another's attributes. For the woman in the show, it was her obedience. For others, it may be their independence, or their loyalty. For me, it is my soul."

He gave her a long look. "Right. Cool. Well I sure as shit don't control jack shit on Jada Ballard. Trust me, I just tried."

"You are sure? Her ass did nothing you asked of it?"

Arthur blinked. "Uh, what?"

"Her ass. Your ass now, I suppose. Did it do nothing you demanded?"

"Pardon my language, but what in god's holy fuck are you talking about?"

"You told the Witch Doctor Dega Ualu that was your desire. I heard it with my own ears. You said this woman's name, and that her ass now belongs to you. You even said you liked dealing with men who are very literal. Do you not remember?"

The blood drained from Arthur's face. "You've got to be fucking joking me."

"I was told to answer your questions, Mr. Bowman. I would not joke with you." She rolled her shoulders to adjust her position slightly, ripples of tit-flesh dancing before his eyes.

"But... that's not... what does..." He grit his teeth. "Well have him do it right! I don't just want a piece of her – I want her on her hands and knees, begging for it! I wanted to see that little bitch squirm!"

"No doubt with control of her ass, you could arrange some degree of squirming," the girl replied with a note of sympathy. "But there is no fixing this. I do not presume to know the limits of the great Dega Ualu's power, but I know that he does not use it on or for the same person twice."

Arthur just stared for a long moment. This girl, this buxom vision of submissive sexuality that should have been his in the form of Jada Ballard... He'd been tricked. But then, he thought about her reaction to his shout about the zucchini. Could he really...?

"You tell that son of a bitch that this may well not be over. I'll find out for myself just what that ass is worth, and if it's less than what was in that briefcase, I'll be coming back."

"The Witch Doctor Dega Ualu has asked me to tell you that he will know when you are coming, and he will not meet with you again."

"We'll see."

The girl rolled onto her front side again, her own ass on inviting display. She continued, "And if you return, he says I am to finish what I started."

A chill ran through Arthur's veins despite the heat of the day. "You're one crazy bitch, girl."

"I am as the great Dega Ualu has made me, Mr. Bowman." The ingénue closed her eyes, and Arthur left.

It was two days before Arthur laid eyes on Jada Ballard again. He'd decided on the way home that he didn't trust either the girl or that black bastard enough to just knock on her door and demand she take her pants off. So he set up his laptop near a window overlooking her house and kept watch. It rained on and off most of that weekend, and the only time he caught so much as a glimpse of her was as she was pulling out and later back in to her driveway. Arthur bided his time, telling his assistant to cancel his Monday appointments so he could maintain his vigil.

Monday, the weather dried up and the gardeners were back to finish the job. Naturally there was Jada, openly scrutinizing their every move from her roost on her elevated deck. It was time.

He let himself into her yard through the side gate in his fence. (Jada had had a lock installed on it shortly after moving in, but after a surveyor had been called in to verify that yes, by just under a foot, the fence was on his side of the property line, she had reluctantly called a locksmith to have it removed.) The gardeners wished him good morning as he walked by; he nodded softly in response.

"Good morning, Jada," he said as he ascended the stairs to where she was reclining on her deck chair. She was dressed much like last time, a diaphanous robe over a one-piece swimsuit, this time lavender. A pair of large-frame sunglasses kept him from seeing her eyes, but from the direction her head was tilted, he was sure she wasn't bothering to even look at him. No sense acknowledging what you prefer didn't exist.

"Oh. Hi, Artie. Clocks broken again? I'm afraid I can't help you with your zucchini problems. Maybe ask one of the gardeners."

"Cute. So look, I was wondering if you saw–"

Just as Arthur was about to employ the stratagem he'd been developing all weekend, she held up a hand to silence him. "Look, we don't enjoy one another's company enough for small. If you came over to use my ass, let's get it over with, but otherwise just leave me in peace, all right?"

Arthur blinked. "I'm sorry, did you say..."

"Make up your mind, Artie. I don't have all day." Arthur stared a long moment until she finally held out her hands and sighed. "Well? You can't just stand there and stare at me all morning."

"Uh, OK. Show it to me."

Arthur did well enough with the ladies that he seldom bothered with pornography, but once after he'd seen Jada exiting her pool, her bikini suffering a bit of a wedgie, the brief glimpse had titillated him enough to google it. He didn't remember any more the results of the search, but he recalled there were over two hundred thousand results. The much-televised butt of one of the stars ofSoCal Coast.

Now here it was in front of him.

It didn't disappoint. In fact, it was magnificent - perhaps more impressive even that the witch doctor's girl. Her waist was the typical narrow midsection of the young starlet, pinched in only to flare out at hips whose whole purpose seemed to be to support an ass otherwise too ample for the rest of her frame. Even bent over as she was, the outward protrusion of it was clear, a bubble that would never pop. It had enough meat on it that it jiggled softly just from the subtle movement of Jada retrieving her phone from the pocket of her robe and switching it on to distract herself while she was ogled.

His hand was reaching for it before he even realized. A self-conscious glance over his shoulder, however, confirmed that every one of the landscaping crew were at the least furtively glancing and in one case openly staring.

"Erm, why don't we take this inside?"

"I'm not taking a strange man inside my house, thanks."

"Strange...! You've known me for almost five years, Jada. Now would you rather I feel you up in front of your oh-so-exclusive crew here?"

"What you do with my ass is your business, Artie. If you want to make yourself a spectacle, be my guest."

Arthur didn't even know what to make of this. Was Jada Ballard seriously giving permission to play with her ass in front of a group of hired help? Outdoors, where heaven only knew who else in the neighborhood might be watching? The trees around the fringes of the property granted a modicum of privacy, sure, but there were lots of windows, too many angles to cover.

"All right then, I guess I'll just takemy ass back tomy house," he grumbled. Jada didn't budge in the least as his hand slipped inside the back of her swimsuit. Rather than go right for the ass itself, he instead gripped her swimsuit like a handle and started pulling her along behind him as he walked away.

Jada squawked at the suddenness of it. "Careful! Do you know what this suit costs? I'll have you know it's appearing in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition this year. Tear it, and you'll be reimbursing me even if I have to take you to court."

Arthur ignored it as he marched her right past the gardeners, through the gate, and back inside his own house. Jada stumbled along awkwardly behind him, neither cooperating nor resisting; she merely let him direct her as he guided. The workers stared in shock at the way their famous, high-powered client was being manhandled by the stranger next door, right up until he slammed the door shut behind them.

"Yech, I can't believe you asked me for the contact info of my landscapers and not my cleaning lady," Jada said, eyeing her surroundings distastefully. It was true that Arthur's own cleaning service hadn't been there in a few days, but he knew she was just being haughty.

"Jada, you can't even imagine how long I've waited for this moment, you obnoxious, entitled bitch. Take off those clothes and present yourself. It's well past time someone put you in your place."

"Turn around then."

Arthur blinked. "Excuse me, what was that?"

"I'm not taking off my suit in front of you. Turn around."

"What?! That'smy ass, isn't it?!"

"Obviously. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let some pervert ogle the rest of me."