Chapter 3

James had hinted that Laurel was a distraction at the office, and the house Internet started working again, so Laurel worked on her publication from home for the next few days. When she decided to take a break and go to the mall, Imogen went with her.

Laurel couldn’t remember ever shopping for clothes with another girl. There had been her mom, of course, and earlier this year her gay friend Theo had given her a wardrobe makeover, but those weren’t the same.

She was envious, it occurred to her, that Imogen was pretty for real, without needing magic. Imogen’s boobs were definitely a fruit category bigger than grapefruit, but of course, she had a bigger frame. Bigger and curvier. Laurel had sometimes heard guys go crazy over “child-bearing hips” like Imogen had, and she supposed that hips like those pushed a lot of guys’ evolutionary buttons. Imogen’s hair intrigued her as well: there had been something fascinating about its texture when Laurel had brushed it. She also had a very slight classy English accent.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Imogen said as they drifted through the river of holiday shoppers. “You’ve gone on dates every night I’ve been here. And you did that sleepy-orgasm trick on the first night. Do you and this guy you’ve been seeing use magic for sex?”

Laurel blushed and grinned. “Well, there’s more than one guy. But yeah...”

“Like what?” Imogen asked with wonder.

Laurel shrugged bashfully. “Okay, well, I know it’s disgusting, but I like it when guys come. It makes me feel good about myself. But I don’t like the sex to be over. So a lot of times I’ll keep resetting the guy so that he can keep going without any downtime. That way he can come lots of times. Or sometimes I’ll just make it so he can last a really long time before coming. I play it by ear.”

“Wow. Just wow. And then you come a lot too?” Imogen asked. Laurel nodded vigorously.

They stopped to look at a vandalized store display with mannequins left in vulgar poses.

“Are there guys who know how to do this sort of magic?” Imogen asked.

“Some,” Laurel nodded. “I only know two straight ones. They’re both beginners at it and live on the other side of the country.”

“And not Hunter...?” Imogen asked. A sort of vulnerable intensity was creeping into her voice.

“No,” Laurel said with a shake of her head.

They walked on.

“So what if somebody had a mental block?” Imogen asked. Laurel gave her a puzzled look. “Say someone used to really really really like sex? But then as she got a little older - like, eleven - and she started to understand things more, she stopped liking it as much? And say no amount of therapists and supportive boyfriends had ever managed to change that?”

Imogen waited, vulnerable, for Laurel to respond.

“I’m so sorry,” Laurel said. “I don’t know if I can help you. If it’s all in your mind I probably can’t, but I’ve read that sometimes these things have a physical manifestation. I’ve got a whole box of vibrators and stuff, so maybe tonight we can...”

“No,” Imogen interrupted. “It has to be a guy. I’ve got issues, okay? I just know that if I’m ever going to get over it, it has to be with a guy.” Laurel nodded.

The clover tattoo on Laurel’s wrist had been itching. It was the enchantment telling her that somebody nearby meant her harm. She persuaded Imogen to stop for soft pretzels so she could look around, but she couldn’t figure out the source of the warning.

She did spot a familiar face passing by though. “Ken! Hey Ken! C’mere! This is my friend Imogen!”

“Hey,” Ken and Imogen both greeted each other.

Laurel didn’t know Imogen’s type, but most girls would certainly have found Ken’s looks agreeable. He was medium-sized with dirty-blond hair in a somewhat moppish cut. He was wearing a vintage bomber jacket with effortless confidence.

“She’s from out of town!” Laurel rushed to say, but then there was an awkward pause before she went on. “I’ve been showing her the city and stuff, and I thought ... Um, if you and Milo don’t have any plans, maybe we can come to your apartment?” Laurel began to get nervous. She knew she wasn’t saying things right. She was being a freak.

“You consider our apartment one of the city’s big attractions, then?” He said with a chuckle. Laurel couldn’t decide if he was mocking her or letting her off with a joke.

Imogen put a hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “What she means is, maybe we can meet at your place and then go out to a couple bars. She figured you’d know some good places.”

“Yeah, that,” Laurel said, glad for the rescue.

Ken looked the girls over with a sly smile. “That could be fun. I’ll run it by Milo and we’ll hit you up with a text,” he said before nodding a goodbye and setting off into the crowd.

Once Ken was safely out of earshot, Laurel told Imogen, “I’m sorry. I should have asked you. I don’t even know ... I mean, about your problem...”

Imogen smiled. “I think I get it. Let’s see how drinks go.”

Imogen bet Milo and Ken each ten dollars each that Laurel would be able to get the first round of beers, despite being underage and not having a fake ID. She was petite with a youthful face. If anything, the bartender would think she was younger than she actually was, the boys had argued.

Laurel was pleased by Imogen’s confidence in her. It was simple, of course: a few crow’s feet and frown lines, a little sagging in her cheeks. The bartender’s own expectations focused her glamour until it matched the impression she wanted to give. He probably assumed she was a forty-year-old hanging out with her niece and friends. To everyone else, she remained a beautiful young woman.

While Laurel quietly sipped at her beer, Imogen threw back one after another, boisterously keeping pace with the guys. It seemed so effortless for her: she was at once one of the boys and also the embodiment of the feminine spirit that men spend their lives seeking. And she could talk to them about anything! She didn’t know the video game they spent so much time playing, but she understood the competitive spirit from high school tennis. She impressed them with her knowledge of fancy computer hardware - at least as it applied to art software. She could even casually reach out and muss their hair or steal gulps from their mugs without it being weird. It was fun when Imogen did that sort of thing. Even with a skillfully crafted glamour to make her beautiful, Laurel knew she couldn’t compete with girls like Imogen. When it came to social graces, there was no magic to hide what Laurel was. Beauty was the only card she had to play.

By the time the four returned to Milo and Ken’s apartment, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was on. While Ken and Imogen made out on the couch, Laurel sat in Milo’s lap in the easy chair and dry-humped him with considerable skill. Her eyes seemed to dare him: I could make you come like this and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.

Perhaps in defiance of her unspoken threat, he twisted her around until she was face-down on his lap and swatted her ass. She yelped playfully and squirmed, but he held her in place and groped her.

A glance at the couch showed that Imogen was now shirtless, laying on her back. Her lacy blue-and-black bra was still present, maintaining the roundness of her sizable breasts in contrast to the flatness of her belly.

“Those are some tits,” Milo mentioned. Laurel giggled.

“Yeah they are,” Ken said, kneeling upright between Imogen’s legs and taking off his shirt.

With all eyes on her, Imogen rose from the couch enough to unhook her bra and tossed it aside before lying back again. Now her breasts were spread out across her chest. Her nipples stood out proudly like hilltop towers. Ken’s mouth came down on them like a Kansas tornado over and over before he rose back up and said, “Come on - let’s go to my room.”

“No!” Laurel quickly objected. “Would it be alright if we all stayed here?” She asked timidly.

“You are such a weird girl,” Milo said affectionately. He lifted her like a doll and put her back in his lap, facing him, and he kissed her while working on the buttons of her blouse.