Away from home on business, Anais found herself in the hotel elevator staring at a poster advertising entertainment in the lounge. Louis and Clark: Explorations in Music. “Why not?” Anais said to herself, and in her room she changed into something comfortable, then took the elevator back down to the lobby and strolled into the lounge. It was crowded, perhaps filled to capacity, but the hostess escorted her to an empty table right at the front and took her order for a glass of wine, which was soon delivered. It was excellent. Anais took another sip and then sighed, tired from her work, relaxed now, prepared to be entertained.

Some minutes later, the lights flickered, dimmed, and when the room was reilluminated, there were Louis and Clark. Identical twins, apparently, both wearing white—handsome suits and silk cravats, the pair stood on either side of Anais, and one of them, whether it was Louis or Clark Anais couldn’t possibly say, brandished an oversized baton. “Mademoiselle,” they whispered as one. “Welcome. We’re so pleased you’ve offered to assist us.”

Taken aback, Anais tried to remain composed. “But I didn’t—I’m not a musician. I don’t play music. I’m—”

Louis (or Clark) cut her off. “Music did you say?”

Anais nodded.

“Why would you need to play music?”

“Aren’t you musicians?”

The twins looked at each other. “Are we?” they said, eyebrows raised. “No,” they simultaneously answered. “Magicians, yes, musicians, no,” said the one with the baton. “Mother never could spell,” said the other. “Spell, hah hah hah,” they laughed together. And the one with the baton, or maybe it was a wand, waved it.

The lights went out. Then came back on. Something had changed. Anais wasn’t sure at first what it was. Then she became aware. The other one now held the wand. Or else they’d switched positions. But there was more. Her breasts inside her jacket were bare. Her blouse and bra had disappeared. How could that have happened?

Anais had no time to think. Clark (or was it Louis?) waved the wand again, and again the lights flicked, and a moment later, lights back on, her panties were off, gone, vanished, and Anais felt the rough fabric of her skirt against her bare bottom.

She had little time to contemplate the soft but insistent itch, pleasant though this friction was to her aroused labia, for the wanded brother spoke soothingly into her ear: “You may have noticed something about my unlucky colleague, identical to me in every way save one.”

The whispered words caressed the inner whorls and intimate flesh of Anais’s ear but meant little except to serve as counterpoint to the tickle of rough wool against her exposed vulva.