Sex . . . magic.
Ben says it like it’s actually a thing. Like that’s a job that people have. Here’s Bob, who watches birds migrate, and here’s Jimmy, who shoves his hands into cow intestines and reads your future. And then there’s Gwen, who . . . I don’t know, orgasms to get her magic motoring.
It’s just downright bizarre.
Ben parks the car in front of the farmhouse—which looks like something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. There are flowers everywhere, neatly trimmed hedges, and an arching, vine-covered trellis over the sidewalk. Cute little garden-gnome statues peek out of the flower beds, the porch has a cozy swing on it, and chimes tinkle somewhere nearby. This does not look like the home of a sex witch, not even slightly.
The screen door opens and a woman steps out. “Well, my goodness. Look at you, Ben Magnus. As sexy as the day I last saw you.”
Ben flushes beet red. I stiffen, glancing over at him, because apparently she finds Ben sexy, and for some reason, it gets me hot under the collar. Like, that’s not how you greet an old buddy. That’s how you greet a former fuck buddy.
To my dismay, I realize Gwen is totally a Blanche in every sense of the word. Damn it.
Gwen steps down the front porch, holding her arms out. “And you must be Reggie. Look at how young you are. Gracious! You’ve even got freckles. Such a little baby. My goodness, I can’t remember the last time I was that young.” She beams at me, clearly heading in for a bear hug.
I take it awkwardly, sending Ben a plea for help with my eyes, because what else can I do? We need Gwen’s assistance.
She immediately moves over to Ben and grabs him in a hug, but she lingers over him, her arms moving up and down his back. Ben is clearly uncomfortable, not hugging her back, and it’d be funny if I wasn’t so damn mixed up over him myself.
It’d be even funnier if Gwen wasn’t so stinking gorgeous.
Ben was right when he said she’d have an Earth Mother vibe. She’s dressed in a long, flowing sundress of pale pink-and-white ombré, and she has a crown of freshly picked flowers in her long, wavy blond hair. She wears no bra under the spaghetti straps of her dress, and her ample breasts shiver and shake with every movement. I’m not wearing a bra, either, but the only time my microscopic tits shook like that was probably in an earthquake. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.
Gwen finally lets Ben go, and then she beams at the two of us. “Why don’t you two come inside? We’ll have some lemonade and get acquainted.”
“We’re actually in a bit of a hurry—” I begin.
Gwen heads inside, all swaying, lush hips and bare feet. When she lifts her skirt to go up the steps, I see pretty, slinky anklets that chime and clang on her ankles. I hate that she’s so perfect, and I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop thinking about her long, extremely familiar hug with Ben. I glance over at him as we follow her inside, and he still looks incredibly uncomfortable.
I move over to his side and touch his arm. “Hey, sexy Ben Magnus, is there something I should know about you and our friend here?”
He leans over slightly toward me as we go up the stairs. “It’s been over for almost two hundred years.”
Well, that’s not a fucking answer. I swallow back my outrage and remind myself that I was the one that pushed to visit Gwen. Ben didn’t want to, and now I’m starting to see why.
The inside of the farmhouse is just as cute and Martha Stewart as the outside. There’s no sex dungeon, no orgy to step over, nothing weird at all. I relax a bit at that. Maybe Gwen’s turned to green magic instead of sex magic in the last two hundred years or so. “Your house is lovely,” I offer, determined not to be a jealous turd when she’s going to help us out. “It feels so calm and peaceful.”
“Oh, thank you!” Gwen beams at us, leading us to the large white-painted wooden table with benches in the center of her kitchen. Fresh flowers are in a vase here, too, and everything smells like honeysuckle and summer. I sit on one bench, and to my surprise, Ben immediately slides in right next to me. Gwen continues brightly. “Farming’s a bit of a hobby of mine. More than a hobby now, since witchcraft can’t exactly pay the bills. I find it soothing, though. If you like, later I can show you my bees? I’m very proud of my hives.”
“That sounds awesome, actually,” I say. Ben reaches over and touches my leg under the table, a silent warning. Okay, no bees, then. “But we are in a hurry.”
“Of course, of course.” Gwen pours three lemonades as Ben quickly fills her in on the situation. She says nothing, just nodding as he goes into detail, and when he’s done, she sits down and doles out the drinks. I pick up my lemonade and take a sip, since I was being petty and didn’t drink my sports drink earlier. I’m parched. As I drink, Gwen’s gaze drops to the cuffs on both of my wrists. “Oh, double penetration. Nice.”
I immediately spray lemonade all over the table, coughing.
Gwen just chuckles and gets up, retrieving a towel. She mops up the table and gives me a wistful look. “Gosh, it’s been forever since I was as young and innocent as you. It’s so charming.” She looks over at Ben. “They get younger every year, don’t they?” Before he can answer, she leans over, her chin on her hand, and flutters her lashes. “And I swear, you get handsomer every year, Ben. Though it’s been a while since I’ve seen you with clothes on.”
“Gwen,” Ben says sharply. “Enough. All right? You’re making Reggie uncomfortable.”
Gwen just chuckles, leaning back and stretching, no doubt a deliberate move to show off her amazing cleavage. “I’m just having a little fun. I mean, what’s the point in living for hundreds of years if you can’t enjoy yourself? And you do know I love to enjoy myself,” she purrs at Ben.
Now I’m the one that’s flushing. “Can we just talk about Dru, please?”
“You don’t want relationship advice?”
“No.” Ben’s voice is flat and cold. “When I want help coordinating an orgy, I’ll reach out to you. Otherwise, we just want to ask you about Aunt Dru. We’re trying to determine who cursed her.”
Gwen thinks for a moment, the comment about orgies apparently not offensive in the slightest. “You tried scrying? Yes, of course you did. It must be blocked.” She taps a finger on her chin, considering. “I can attempt a commune with Venus, but it’ll require a few orgasms, and I’m guessing neither of you wants to assist me with that.”
I clutch at Ben’s leg, because he seems like he’s ready to snap again. “Dru mentioned all her familiars have been cursed,” I blurt out. “Can you tell us more about that? Were you ever cursed?”
“Me? Oh yes.” Gwen shrugs. “It was a very, very long time ago, though. Luckily, the tablet wasn’t hidden very well, so I found it and destroyed it. I’m guessing that whoever is responsible has probably gotten better at hiding these sorts of things.”
“Who was it?”
Gwen tosses her hair. “I don’t know. It was a rather nasty sort of curse, too. Made me repulsed by tongues.” She shivers. “I was glad to get rid of it. It positively put a pall on my casting, as you can imagine.”
“Where was the tablet hidden, then?” Ben seems frustrated with Gwen and her unhelpful answers.
“I don’t remember. Some old bank that burned down in the fifties. Or was it the twenties, during the stock-market crash?” She pauses, thinking, then shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s long gone now.” She reaches across the table and brushes her hand over Ben’s large one. “You could help me cast a memory spell. Help me recall.”
She flutters her lashes at him in an extremely obvious way that makes me, well, steamed. We’re trying to find who cursed her old mentor, and she’s hitting on my temporary boss? What the fuck? I should have listened to Ben when he said he didn’t want to visit her. But then I wouldn’t have found out that they were lovers, and that’s a tidbit I feel I should be aware of.