Back to the Fuchsia (4 page)

“Well, I hope the Michelin man doesn’t find out she’s been diddlin’ the missus.”

“That’s for her man.”

“Huh? Did you say her man? What in Odin’s name do you mean, Ezzy?”

Ezzy selected a stout leather pig whip from a nearby rack and whacked the mannequin across his ass. She hit it so hard I nearly jumped out of my shoes. “Pegging. She uses the toy on him.”

I was dumbfounded. I never even considered something like that. “Oh, I get it. He’s gay.”

“No. Any guy would love this kind of attention from his lover.” Curiously enough, she held up both hands, only two fingers extended on each, and she clawed the air when she said the word “attention.”

“Huh.” I looked around at the inventory of pig whips, riding crops, handcuffs, and every restraint you can imagine. There were even more things that I couldn’t even begin to describe. “You say this is how refined, cultured people are having sex nowadays? I think what Brad and I have is wonderful. I can’t believe beating the daylights out of each other and shoving fake peckers up his arse could make life any better. People can do what they want. Who am I to say? But this sort of thing? I can’t imagine it.”

“Trust me, this kind of sex—kinky sex—has gone mainstream now.” There went her little claw hands once again when she said “mainstream.”

“By the way, what does it mean when you make little bunny ears with your fingers when you say certain words, Ezzy?”

“Bunny ears? Oh, you mean virtual quote marks. Whenever you say a word that is really special, you should use them.”

“Gotcha.” I mimicked her quote mark gesture. “It’s kind of fun actually.” Repeating the quotes when I said “fun.”

I was wide-eyed and dumbfounded as I turned around to see the displays of strange clothing. I could see why people found the skimpy clothing erotic, but I wasn’t aroused.

“So, this is all the rage? I wouldn’t even know where to start. Brad never mentioned anything like this before. Nothing at all. Well, how’d you like to get out of this place? I could go for a snack.”

Ezzy rummaged through her purse and found a few red foil wrapped candies. “Here, have a mint. They’re a Salem specialty.”

Thanking her, I unwrapped one and put it in my mouth. The taste was only slightly minty, a bit salty, and kind of sweet. It was more like a gob of dried toothpaste than a mint. I had to politely swallow it down.

“He hasn’t mentioned it to you because he knows you’re so innocent and inexperienced in these matters. He wants it, he’s just afraid to ask you. A lot of men feel that way. The best way for you to bring it up is to surprise him.”

Ezzy touched a lock of my hair. I knew what she was doing. It was her magical way of getting into my thoughts.

“Poor girl, he’s not keeping up with your witch’s sexual appetite. Is he? Why, I’ll bet he’s already started telling you he’s too tired for sex, or it’s been a long day. If he’s saying those things, he really means sack time has become boring.”

Ezzy’s words smacked me square in the face. Just like that, she confirmed my worst fear.

Brad was getting bored with our nightly sexy time? It truly pained me. Why wouldn’t he want me every single night? That was the moment I started to seriously consider Ezzy’s advice. “Surprise him? Are you sure? What do I say? ‘Hey, Brad, put on this horse bridle. Bend over, big boy. I’m going to handcuff you to the bedrail. Surprise! I’ve got me a giant rubber Mickey, and it’s going right through the back door, Boyo’. Ha! I believe I’d never see him again.”

“If you’re not sure how to discuss these things with your partner, but really want to take your intimacy and trust to the next level, what you need is a certified intimacy therapist.”

“Certified, you say? A therapist? I wouldn’t even know where to find a…” Ezzy’s fingers pressed against my lips, silencing me.

Producing a small card from her purse, she took her hand away. “Please. I happen to be fully qualified. I even have a business card.” She placed the card in my hand and I promptly read it out loud.

“What’s this? Good for one free twenty-four ounce coffee at Rachel’s Coffee Coven, Downtown Salem? I don’t see how…”

“Give me that. Here, this one.” Ezzy replaced the tattered coffee club card with a professional looking business card.

I looked at the new card. “I guess if you have a business card, you must be official.”

“One hundred percent legit. Could I be anything less, Gertie?”

I read her business card out loud:

Kinky Hex, LLC.

Esmeralda Warren

Level Nine Witch in Spells & Potions

Certified Dominatrix

Intimacy Therapist and Sex Surrogate

Call Witches Union Local 1313 to schedule an appointment.

“Like the name says, Kinky Hex. So, are you ready to thrust your love life into high gear?” Ezzy asked, her eyes still strangely glazed.

Bizarrely enough, everything Ezzy said about this refined and cultured wild sex got me excited about the possibilities. “This is weird to say, but all of a sudden, I am. Yes! I really am! How do we start? What exactly does an Intimacy Specialist do anyway?”

“Think of me as a coach. I’ll come over and we’ll have a talk. Maybe go over some equipment. I’ll coach both of you on what to do. Explain a few techniques and let you try them out. That’s all. Really, it’s a way to open doors of communication so you and your lover can easily discuss any intimacy issues.”

I pictured the three of us in the parlor having a very modern adult conversation. I was convinced it would be good for us, my inhibitions drifted away and my heart pumped intensely. “I think you’re right, Ezzy, let’s do it.”

Ezzy giggled, nearly to the point of cackling. “I’ll give you a call sometime, we can talk about it a little more. Anyway, we should be heading back soon. Marie will be one pissed off witch if I don’t get that ghost tour wrapped up.”

We returned to the sidewalk and I read the lettering on the awning of a nearby café. “Rachel’s Coffee Coven. Your favorite place, Ezzy. Do you have time for tea at least?”

“I always have time for tea.”

Forced Confession

A
beautiful floral china tea set floated through the café door. It flawlessly navigated its way through the small tables, chairs, and umbrellas clustered together on the sidewalk.

“Now, that’s my kind of flying saucer,” I joked, watching the tea set gently land on our table.

Ezzy thoughtfully stirred her tea for a minute before shaking her spoon at me. “I wish I knew who the bonehead was that requested a ghost tour without advance notice. When I find out, I’m going to turn that witch into a toad. Temporarily, of course.”

“Bonehead, you say?”

“Yeah. Why?” Ezzy squinted, leaning into me, up close and personal. “Are you the bonehead?”

“No. I had nothing to do with the tours for those new guests.”

“Aha! So it has to do with your Paranormal Plantation. It certainly wasn’t Brad. That leaves only one person. It must be your other boyfriend, Randy.”

“Yes. I mean no! Yes, Randy is the bonehead, but he is certainly not my other boyfriend. Good Lord. Why would you even joke with me like that?”

“Who said I was joking? After all, Randy is a very attractive man. You live together and spend more time with him than Brad. Sure, Randy’s gay, but you certainly aren’t. You can’t tell me you haven’t found yourself lounging in the bath, indulging some fantasy involving Randy.”

Her hand swept across the table and she gently twirled a lock of my hair with her finger. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled with that sly closed-lipped, knowing smile of hers. It’s something of a trademark look she’d perfected over the centuries.

“Ah, no. Something else. Not a fantasy. I know. A dream. You surprised yourself with a completely unexpected sexual dream with Randy.”

She retracted her hand and returned to her tea. Looking quite smug and speaking in her best matter-of-fact voice, “Your naughty dream really is completely normal—almost expected actually. And don’t you worry your pretty little head, it’ll be our secret.” Ezzy sipped her tea. “Conditionally, of course.”

“Really? Expected?” I found myself choking on my tea. I suppose I surprised myself with my initial response. “That’s just ridiculous and sick. Anyway, what do you mean by conditionally?”

“Allow me to be indelicate.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Ezzy.”

“A minute ago, I got a glimpse of your dream. From what I could tell, it’s pretty damning, yet part of you still longs to tell me everything. I’ll admit, you’ve aroused my curiosity. I just have to know what it’s all about.”

Ezzy twirled her finger in a lock of my hair. “You should tell me, or I may have to ask someone else about what you were doing in that dream. I’m sure more than one person would like to have a discussion about your silly little dream.”

I know my response sounded quite terse as it flew from my mouth. “You’re a wicked witch, Esmeralda Warren. Saints forgive me, but you are as wicked as they come.”

I took a deep breath. I had no choice but to spill the beans. She already knew I dreamt something. If I didn’t play along with her little extortion act, she’d certainly bring it up to Randy, or even worse, Brad.

“You’re right, Ezzy. It was just a silly dream I had once.”

“Something must have triggered it, though. Do tell.” Her eyes remained clouded. “Tell me everything.”

“Ugh. A couple of months ago, I walked past Randy’s bedroom. His door was cracked and I heard him breathing heavy, all noisy—you know, huffing and puffing. I called out to see if he was all right. When he didn’t answer right away, I peeped into his room. There he lay, naked as a newborn babe, Sweet Baby Jaysus! That was not what I expected. And what did I see? The boy was tearing the handle off himself with one hand and choking his bullocks with the other. For a second, I thought he might be having a fit, or something. But then I realized what was going on. It was a sight enough to make his guardian angel run home to Heaven. His hand jigged up and down like he shook hands with a kangaroo. Then he suddenly stopped and squeezed it like he’d just caught a snake in the wild. Just for a few seconds, though. Then he’d go right back to work on the monkey.”

“Ahahaha! You walked in on Randy while he was bashing the bishop!”

“Oh, yeah. He beat that bald man like it owed him money.”

“He had to have known you were spying on him. Maybe he wanted you to see him.”

“No. He had his headphones on, so he didn’t have any idea I was there. I’d never watched a man do that kind of thing before.”

I thought about my reason for keeping my feet firmly planted in the doorway. “I suppose I was curious more than anything. I didn’t know what to expect. I’d always secretly wondered what they do with it by themselves. It’s a bit of a letdown, you know? I did find out, though, that he’s not called Randy Johnson for nothing. Judas Priest! It's huge and it even curved up. I’ve never seen one like that before! Christ almighty, it looked like a baby’s arm flexing its biceps. Then, without warning. Boom. He was done. I got away from the door and around the corner as fast as I could. You would have thought Kate or Wills lit a fire under my arse.”

“So you got turned on by it, huh?”

“Not really. I was curious for sure. Mostly, I was ashamed at myself for invading his privacy like I did. Randy really is my best friend and we do have a connection. You could call it love. But like friends have. I’ve never considered anything physical between us.”

I took a deep breath to compose myself before I incriminated myself.

“That very night, I had the dream. Like I said, it wasn’t much. I dreamt that Brad was on our bed doing the same thing I saw Randy doing. In my dream, I climbed on top and made love to him, but when I leaned down to kiss Brad, it was Randy’s toothy grin smiling up at me. I woke up right then, mortified, I was! The sight stunned me for a few minutes, but trust me, I only had to think about Randy with his goofy manners and how he’s always fussing with his perfect hair, and I knew I would be fine. He doesn’t attract me physically. Just a stupid dream.”

Surprisingly, Ezzy didn’t say a thing. Not one single word. I waited, wondering what her reaction would be. I contemplated asking what her motive was for this impromptu confession, but sensing my growing anxiety, she broke her silence.

“You probably think I’m being a freak by asking you to confess all of this, but really, I’m doing you a favor, Gertie. I’ve been around for a very long time and I’ve seen all sorts of relationships. The good, the bad, the ugly. From my perspective, you are in a most unique situation. You’re engaged to marry the only man you’ve ever had feelings for, and he also happens to be the only man you’ve ever had sex with. You also live with a very attractive young man. The two of you spend an inordinate amount of time with each other and are more compatible than any couple I know. Only one thing stands in your way. You aren’t a couple, and you can’t be.”

“That’s ridiculous! First of all, he’s gay. It would be grossly rude of me to go after him. Secondly, I’m madly in love with Brad. We have a perfect relationship. Never in a million years would I even consider someone else. A stupid dream. That’s all it was.”

“Probably. Dreams often are, but once in a while, a dream isn’t a dream. It’s something we’re not meant to see.”

“What do you mean? Like foretelling the future?”

“Hmm. Not the future. At least not in the way you suppose, unless you call a self-fulfilling prophecy a type of fortune-telling. This dream you had—let me explain what it could be. Imagine you accidentally swept open a curtain and there you saw it; the deepest machinations of your subconscious. And your cute little subconscious, she’s a busy girl. She spends hours upon hours plotting what she wants and how to go about getting it. When I say plotting, I mean elaborately and tirelessly. She never stops, you had no idea she even existed. But there she is. She’s playing it out, projecting it on a screen, over and over. So, you see? Here you thought you were dreaming when you were plotting. You met Randy and were attracted to him. Now, he’s living with you. Maybe, just maybe, it’s all part of a subconscious convoluted plan to get Randy.”