Vilmar cursed as the woman paused in the midst of tugging down her skirt. He saw the glaze leave her eyes, and knew that she'd broken his charm spell. He turned on his heel, rapidly tying the robe he wisely chosen to open rather than shed. She covered her breasts — the only thing he'd even seen this time — and let out a shrill scream that he thought was surely going to cause his ears to bleed.
As he burst out the door of her home, he twisted a ring on his finger to shroud his body in invisibility. His magic took effect just in time, because several of the woman's neighbors had already reacted to her scream. Vilmar slowed to prevent his flapping sandals from giving away his position and crept out of the area.
Once safely beyond the sound of the ruckus, the wizard ducked into a dark corner and let his invisibility lapse. Though highly adept at most types of magic, he had never gained facility with charming spells. To this day, he had managed to reach his peak only once with a charmed woman before she broke free — and he had tried many, many times. Most often, the encounters ended exactly as this one had, with no more than a peek and a frantic flight. He had achieved better results with magical seeing and invisibility.
A thunderclap may as well have heralded a crack in the sky, because the clouds opened with a downpour even before the sound of the rumbling died away. Vilmar was soaked to the skin within a minute, water running down his hooked nose, which stuck out a fair distance beyond the hood of his robe. Soon enough, he could feel the weight of the water soaking his thick eyebrows — or eyebrow as he often heard people whisper behind his back — and he still needed to travel a good distance to reach the inn where he lodged.
The sounds of merriment from the common room of the inn set his teeth on edge as Vilmar finally approached his destination. Few turned to see who had entered when the wind virtually blew him in the door. They kept their attention on their cups and the members of the opposite sex. He turned away from the sight of women sitting on men's laps and bodices that barely covered breasts to stomp up the stairs to his room, leaving a trail of mud behind.
Once in his room, he shed his sodden robe from his gangly body, letting the garment fall to the floor with a wet plop. Despite his heavy footfalls as he ascended the staircase, a thick layer of mud still encrusted his sandals and created clammy, slimy cushions between each of his toes. He kicked off the sandals with a disgusted hiss and walked over to retrieve a washbasin from the table in the room.
Vilmar cast a spell upon the bowl, and then sat it down on the floor. He stepped inside, finding just enough room for both of his feet to fit. He then raised his hands over his head and spoke the words of another spell. When he completed the chant, a warm shower of water rained down upon him, washing away the mud and chill. His masterful control of the spell ensured that not one drop escaped the basin, and the magic he had cast upon it previously drained the bowl as fast as it filled. Another spell dried him just as easily.
Once clean and dressed in a fresh robe, Vilmar settled in and listened for the revelry downstairs to die down a little. He hated this day above all others, dedicated to the goddesses of love and lust, because it reminded him that no woman would ever feel either for him. He planned to slip into the common room under cloak of invisibility, once the room cleared enough, to steal enough money to hire the services of a prostitute for the evening.
Eventually, the noise quieted. No doubt adjourning to their rooms and homes to rut, Vilmar silently sneered. He twisted his ring and let the magic wrap around him. A peek through the cracked door revealed that the hall was empty, and so he swiftly slipped out.
The stairs were likewise devoid of traffic, and thankfully well constructed. The soft-soled shoes that now replaced his sandals made no sound as he carefully worked his way down to the common room floor.
His plan proved a sound and easy one. The drunken patrons provided easy pickings, allowing Vilmar to fill his pockets with coin. The weary bartender was not fully attentive of his duties as he relaxed after the early rush, and coins vanished from his till as well. After less than half an hour, Vilmar had enough to hire his pleasure for the evening with some to spare.
With a smug smirk decorating his invisible face, Vilmar made his way back toward the stairs. He stopped short and raised his azalea bush eyebrows when he saw a nude man sitting at a corner table. He wondered how the other patrons managed to ignore the man's nudity until a slight shift revealed the naked drinker's true identity. The feathered wings identified him as a cupid, and the red sash of his quiver denoted that he served the goddess of lust, Erotine.
Vilmar realized that his command of magic allowed him to see through the disguise such proxies of the goddesses wore when traveling the world of mortals. Relaxing his control over his powers revealed the disguise, explaining why the other patrons paid him no mind.
The wizard's research into such beings returned to him in a flash, creating a plan in his mind almost as quickly. Only three arrows remained in the cupid's quiver, and that indicated that he had probably met his quota for this evening — likely in this very common room. He surely searched for a woman to satisfy his own lust now, and following the cupid's gaze revealed whom the man had chosen, one of the barmaids. From her frequent glances toward him, Vilmar determined that the cupid had already used an arrow on the woman, or his goddess-given attributes had done the job without the aid of magic.
Vilmar hurried up the stairs and let the magic of his ring slip away. In order to enact his plan, he would need to use his magic, and he couldn't do that under the influence of the ring without suddenly appearing from thin air. The cupid could also likely see him through the magic, and had only failed to notice him because his attention was fixated on the barmaid.
The wizard returned to the common room and took a shadowed table near where the barmaid was depositing a tray of drinks for other patrons. His fingers worked beneath the table to form the gestures of his spell while he mouthed the words under his breath. The barmaid walked toward his table as soon as she saw him without a drink, which surprised Vilmar a little. Such women often avoided him until he forced them to acknowledge his presence.
"Can I get you something, Sir?"
"Yes, a glass of your finest spirits," Vilmar replied and held out a coin.
The barmaid reached for the payment and Vilmar placed it in her hand, activating his spell. "I'm sure you're anxious to have this day done and return home," he said conversationally.
"Mmm hmm," she replied.
At first, Vilmar thought his plan stopped right there. Her mind turned not to the location of her home, but instead to the cupid. In the next instant, she thought of taking the man back to her home, and Vilmar had what he wanted.
The barmaid returned with his spirits quickly and said, "Just call if you need anything else."
Vilmar tossed back the spirits in two swallows, finding that the liquor actually was fine. As with the barmaid's courteous service, he was unused to actually getting what he asked for. For a fraction of a second, he felt guilty about what he planned to do.
But only for a fraction of a second.
He left a coin for the barmaid and exited the inn, following the path in the barmaid's mind to her home. His magic made short work of the locks, and he found a chair in the corner to await her return, using his ring to hide him in invisibilty.
A short time later, the barmaid opened the door and stumbled into the room backwards, locked in a kiss with the cupid. As soon as she shut the door, she tore at the cupid's illusionary clothing, even as he bared her body as well.
Vilmar waited a short while for the sounds of impassioned sex to build, and then crept toward the bedroom door. He let out a mental sigh when he saw that the cupid had indeed discarded his quiver and bow upon climbing into the bed with the barmaid.
The barmaid squealed and screamed in bliss as the cupid gave her pleasure unlike any mortal could possibly deliver. His wings flapped with every powerful thrust of his hips, and the bed frame creaked alarmingly. Vilmar made a silent wish that the cupid was completely enthralled by his lust and crept into the room.
The cacophony continued as Vilmar moved slowly toward the bow and quiver. His small member hardened from the scene, spurring courage driven by his own lusty needs. The cupid didn't pause in his efforts as the wizard picked up the spoils of his stealth and moved at a faster pace back toward the doorway.
Excitement and anticipation swelled within him as he exited the home with the bow and quiver in hand. He laughed and danced a jig, causing a couple across the muddy street to stare at him. He cleared his throat and contained his exuberance, instead moving apace toward his chosen target for the arrows.
Vilmar had all but literally drooled upon seeing the woman hanging her underthings upon a clothesline a few days earlier. Watching the house had confirmed that she had no husband. Only the nearby guardhouse had dissuaded him to choose her for his failed attempt at charm magic earlier in the evening.
He cursed when he turned a corner where he could see the house. The woman was in the front yard with several guests around a fire. Only a couple leaving, and other indications that the merriment was near an end, kept him from losing his previously high spirits.
.... There is more of this story ...