by J G Jerome
“That was a long dissertation that in summary means we don’t care if you’re a witch,” Serena says. “It was nice to hear your story, Luis. I think I learned more about you in the last minute than I have the entire time we’ve lived together.”
Chantelle says softly, “Serena and I both have it in our families. My gift is athletics rather than witchcraft.” She looks shrewdly at Serena. “I think Serena has a little power. The phenomenal memory she has could be part of that kind of gift.”
“Or she could just have a good memory,” Rebecca says with a grin. “Your aura gives no indication of it, but it may be just because you're not trained, Serena. I have been remaking the notebooks I lost in a fire years ago. I could start to teach you both if you wanted to learn. My teacher said I was fully qualified. If nothing else, both of you could use it to help keep family and friends healthy. The herbs do the work, we just add a little to their natural impact with our power. I personally think I want to study to be a nurse practitioner at university. I’ve been reading a lot in preparation to start college in January, and I prefer the caregiver aspect of a nurse practitioner to a doctor. So I’m planning to start at Yavapai County Community College with the basics and a focus on sciences.”
Chantelle looks thoughtful, but Serena dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “I have plenty to study at the moment. Maybe after a few years, if you don’t mind...”
Clarice teases her. “Serena, just ask her for her number. I’m willing to bet Will wouldn’t mind, especially if you want to play the meat in a sandwich.”
Serena smirks, “Clary, you know I’ve got that going on already with my patron.” She looks at Rebecca, “Seriously, Rebecca. Just to keep in touch.”
Rebecca winks at me before turning to answer. “I’m good either way, Serena. Just keep in mind that our version of a sandwich is more like a dog pile. There is nothing like being covered by a pile of loving women’s kisses and caresses while William plows your pussy.”
All the ladies at the table are speechless.
I decide to change the topic. “What’s this ‘Shryl needs to go home’ thing you need me to help with?”
Bernadette raises her finger. “Let’s retire to the parlor so the ladies can clear the table. The rest of you, please get some rest. We’re expecting a full house tonight, and some of you will be assisting with a performance in addition to your normal duties. Get rest, my lovelies. I want to see your full glory as the moon rises.”
Without fail, every one of Bernadette’s staff give her a look of loving devotion. She returns it with a doting smile.
She stands and walks to the door. Turning just inside the doorway she says, “Don’t make your mistress wait, my darlings.” Everyone stands. Candice and the servers run up and collect passionate kisses from Bernadette before heading back to clear the table. Luis collects a deep kiss and squeezes her breast as he walks past her.
Chantelle actually has to bend down slightly to kiss Bernadette. Bernadette squeezes her tushy as she tells her. “Serena is up tonight rather than you, darling. She has the night off from her patrons. She needs to know I still love her.”
Chantelle chuckles, “She knows, Mistress. She’s just having a jealous tantrum. We all know you love us.”
Serena collapses into Bernadette’s arms. She attacks her mistress’ mouth hungrily. The two sexy brunettes make quite a picture. She asks when she comes up for air, “Really, Mistress. I get to stay with you tonight?”
Bernadette caresses her face. “Yes, darling girl. Just you and me.”
Serena glows with happiness. She whispers, “Thank you, Mistress.” The irony of the cool, collected lawyer nearly skipping down the corridor is hilarious.
Cindy opens her robe for her mistress before she kisses Bernadette. They stand there for a long moment until Cindy whimpers. Bernadette releases her and Cindy collapses onto her breast. She murmurs, “Thank you, Mistress. I needed that.”
“I know, Strumpet.” Bernadette gives her direction, “Now go to your room, rub a couple more out, and then get some sleep, darling.”
She replies breathily, “Yes, Mistress.”
Josie asks, “Bernadette, are they all your lovers?”
Clarice says, “I’m the only one that isn’t.”
Bernadette steps inside the dining room proper and hugs Clarice. She murmurs, “I love you like you are my own daughter, Clarice.”
“I know, Mistress, but I really want to play.”
Bernadette holds her head to her breast. “Soon beloved. Soon.” She answers Josie. “Josie darling, I am a succubus. Of course, I have sex with all of my entertainment staff. They feed the part of me that food can’t. They are willing to do it, and I make sure they are showered in love. It’s not the same as what you and William share. Most of my darlings have been emotionally or physically abused in some way. The love they get from me is a unique blend of motherly love and sexual comfort - kind of like a sexy favorite aunt taking a younger niece or nephew as a lover.”
“Wow,” Josie responds. “That didn’t happen when I was younger.”
Bernadette chuckles, “Oh yes it did. I was already a working whore by the time you were born, Josephine Carroll. Trust me. There is nothing new in the realm of sex. Felching for example, it’s been around since at least ancient Greece.”
Rebecca asks, “What’s that?”
Marissa says, “Do you remember when you would feed from me?”
Rebecca says, “O-o-oh. Okay.”
Marissa nods, “Like that. Although, I think the contemporary meaning is more the person that put it there eats it out.”
Bernadette shakes her head, “Eh. Not so much. The act is the same regardless. I find that it’s most common in mixed-gender trios. That’s really become a common thing with our clients in our playrooms, especially since electronic publishing has provided an outlet for all types of literature about uncommon relationships.”
Bernadette releases Clarice. “Let’s retire to the parlor, my darlings.” She leads us to our destination.
We follow Bernadette down the corridor, past the stairs, through the salon, and across the entry way into the parlor.
Bernadette waves us into the parlor and closes the door. She nods to Clarice, who is holding a tablet. The young girl taps on the screen of the tablet, and then shades drop inside the windows and over the door. Bernadette opens her robe and takes a seat in her favorite parlor chair. Vanessa, Viktorija, and my ladies all find seats from the plentiful furnishings.
I pick up the topic we interrupted in the dining room. “What’s the mystery? What does ‘Shryl needs to go home’ mean? What do you need me to help with?”
Vanessa softly says, “Um. I’m Shryl. I am hosted by Vanessa.”
Bernadette picks up the narrative. “I received a message from a sorcerer in New York telling me to summon Shryl. Shryl was being sent here with a message from my family in my home dimension. I suspected that Steven was Church, so I was hesitant to involve him because of my family - the Church has me in the same category as Rebecca. So I shopped around for a local sorcerer. I don’t generally mix with the supernatural community, but I do have some contacts. I got a referral for a supposedly reputable sorcerer. He showed up, and summoned Shryl easily enough. Vanessa was attending me as I observed the process. Shryl arrived and started to deliver her message, but something went wrong. The sorcerer pushed her into Vanessa.
Audrey scoffs, “A simple summon-and-banish isn’t even a major work. Even if you contract the traveler. How could he mess that up?”
Bernadette explains, “Apparently he was hung-over and didn’t pay attention. We’re lucky he didn’t botch the possession. I was so wroth with him. Shryl was young - she still is. She was days past her eighteen birthday, and her curse hadn’t yet manifested itself. It triggered hard when she landed in Vanessa, so a virginal Shryl was now a very hungry succubus named Vanessa with years of sexual conquests. I tied the sorcerer in a back room, scrubbed him down, and had the ladies take turn
s on him repeatedly until he was to the point of death. I took the opportunity to coach Vanessa on how to feed off the ambient lust energy until he was near death. Clarice took Vanessa to the dorms and got her a room. Then I broke his neck and had him disposed of.” She sighs heavily. “If I had known you were both available, I would have called you instead of using an unknown.”
I summarize to ensure I have this right. “So you need me to pull Shryl out of Vanessa, so Audrey can banish her home. Then I will need to put that binding glyph Josie taught me on Vanessa to keep her alive?”
Bernadette looks at me suspiciously. “Clarice, please get a pen and paper.”
Clarice says, “Yes, Mistress.” Viktorija uses the tablet to raise the door shade enough for Clarice to duck under the shade. She’s only gone for about a minute. She says, “Close it, Tori.” Viktorija taps the tablet, and the ‘cone of silence’ shade drops back in place.
Bernadette points to me as she looks at Clarice. Clarice hands me the pen and paper.
Bernadette says, “Show me the glyph.”
I’ve been practicing drawing it in the air and 3D in the air in the week since Josie taught it to me. I draw the 3D version in the air with just a smidgen of bright, pure energy. I draw it perfectly.
Bernadette gasps. “That’s the mark of Julius Lafayette.”
6
Bernadette’s story
I look at her, then at Josie. Josie shrugs at me, so I turn back to Bernadette. “Okay. I’ll take your word for that. I learned it from Josie. I’m assuming Josie learned it from Lafayette.” I look at my beautiful big woman.
She says, “Uh, actually, it was Charlene.”
“Charlene Tully?” Bernadette asks. Josie nods. “I should have known he would take that slut as an apprentice.”
“You know them both?” Josie asks. “William has Charlene in a container. How do you know her?”
Bernadette sighs and drops her head. Clarice crawls into her lap and Viktorija sits at her feet and leans on Bernadette’s thigh. Bernadette pulls Clarice to her and caresses Viktorija’s head
“Well,” she begins. “I was a whore in New Orleans in 1848 when Julius Lafayette took me as an apprentice. My name was Babette Printemps at the time.”
She pauses for a minute. “Tori, darling. Please pour me a brandy.”
Viktorija gets up and pulls a snifter from under the sideboard, and pours about a finger of brandy in the bottom. She hands it to Bernadette, who swirls it and inhales the aroma. Viktorija asks, “Anyone else?”
No one takes her up on the offer. Bernadette continues, “I was an orphaned baby that was left at a brothel in May in 1830. It was a fairly common thing at the time for unwanted babies to be left at brothels. The madame named me Babette. Since I was taken in during springtime, I received Printemps as a surname. Again, it was not uncommon in French brothels.”
She closes her eyes as she remembers and sniffs the brandy. With her eyes closed, she continues her story. “Julius bought my contract from the house when I was eighteen. I had been whoring for roughly three years at the time, and Julius was a repeat customer. When he bought my contract, I thought he just wanted me for sex. Instead, he essentially told me that he could see that I had power to practice necromancy. As you might imagine, that was a longer conversation that went on for a couple of days.”
She opens her eyes and takes a sip. “We left New Orleans in 1859 to move to Denver a couple of years after his senior apprentice completed her third master work. He bought a beautiful Italianate style house, the style that later became known as ‘Victorian’ or ‘Queen Anne’ houses. It was only five years old, blue with a little grey tint, white trim. I had my own room down the hall from Master Lafayette, and my own little sitting room in the turret. I loved that place.”
She smiles as she looks into the distance. “I especially loved my little sitting room.” She looks at us again. “Of course, I was Julius’ bed toy, especially after Judith moved on. However, he liked to go out whoring, too. We were on a trip to Colorado City, what is now Colorado Springs. Julius had to meet with another crafter for some business, so we were staying on the top floor of a Bordello in Colorado City. A zombie was causing havoc in the whorehouse. My master was busy sampling the wares, so I drained him and got my power well.” She pauses for a moment. “I mean I drained the zombie.”
We all chuckle. Bernadette almost looks mildly embarrassed for an instant before she smiles broadly and sniffs her brandy.
She smiles and continues. “Draining the zombie should have been my first master work, but Julius didn’t want to give me credit for it. I completed my first official master work, a flesh golem, six months later. I robbed graves all over western Kansas and eastern Colorado for the better part of a year to get all the parts I needed in appropriate sizes. I was an accomplished seamstress, so I found it quite easy once I had all the parts. Power wasn’t a problem as my well was nearly as large as Mr. Lafayette’s.
My second master work was to capture and resurrect a mischievous spirit that was resident in a Denver hotel. She was the niece of a local bordello owner, and she had been whoring since she was fourteen. Apparently she had an affair with the night manager of the hotel. They went through that whole ‘leave your wife, or I’ll tell her.’ The night manager killed her and dumped her body out in the woods. I don’t recall if they ever caught him. Anyway, I captured the ghost and spent two weeks resurrecting her. Julius said it was fast. Despite me successfully resurrecting her, she was never quite right. She may have been unbalanced before death. Regardless, she was very pretty. Lafayette took her as his bed toy. Her name was Charlene Tully.”
Josie and I look at each other.
Bernadette, “Once I gave him Charlene, Julius had no use for me. Plus he was very deeply hurt when Judith left shortly after finishing her third master work. I think he was more attached to me than he cared to admit, and didn’t want to be ‘betrayed’ by me - his words. He drugged me, pulled my soul out, tore it into component energies and absorbed it. Afterwards, he wrote this glyph into the base of my brain and revived me, leaving me as a zombie. He said he did it, so I would always be with him. I had seen that glyph scribed many times, and now I wear it.”
“Oh!” we all commiserate.
She says, “I remember being a zombie. It was frustrating because I had all my memories, but with the loss of my soul, the only power I had left was my power to seduce. I felt disconnected from everyone around me. As you might guess, he sold me to a whorehouse in Denver. He would come to use me if he was feeling particularly nostalgic.”
Clarice squeezes Bernadette tightly and cuddles close. I barely hear her murmur, “I’m so sorry, Auntie.”
“Not to worry, my darling.” Bernadette continues, “I worked at the brothel for over a year before I learned that a young sorcerer would come to the brothel regularly to summon succubae for wealthy clients.”
Bernadette caresses Clarice. “That, my darlings, is how I know that glyph. You need to create one of your own design.”
I tell her, “It sounds like you need to be my mentor, Bernadette.”
“Oh, William darling,” she says sadly. “I don’t have the power. I lost it with Babette’s soul. I would do you no good.”
“I disagree, Bernadette.” I tell her, “I don’t think you having power matters as much as knowing what to do or not do. I’ve been learning from Rebecca, Audrey, and mostly Josie.” I look lovingly at Josie. ”She never got to do her master work in either thaumaturgy or necromancy.”
Bernadette gasps, “Both?”
Josie responds shyly. “Yes, ma’am. My papa sold me to Lafayette for the price of a good horse as I was planning my masterwork as a thaumaturge. I learned some from Lafayette, but I learned more from Charlene Tully.”
Bernadette laughs, “Of course, he took that little cunt for an apprentice.”
Josie tells her, “Don’t feel bad, Bernadette. He killed us both. He sacrificed Charlene and myself to create a magical binding to hold an
angel.”
I add, “Charlene is one of the two ghosts I have left.”
“I thought it was three,” Bernadette observes.
I shake my head slightly. “One was insane. He did nothing but babble when we pulled him out of the container, which by the way, was a design of Josie’s. I called on an angel friend to recycle him.”
Rebecca adds, “The one that Shimon Leuvenfeld summoned to be my guardian angel before I died.”
“Hmm,” Bernadette says. “That’s novel. You could have just drained his soul.”
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Like I did that devourer. I pulled him out, ripped his soul apart and absorbed the energy,” I explain.
Bernadette warns, “Don’t ever do that on an imp of any kind. They splinter into tiny clones when you pull them apart. Lafayette taught me that. I never saw it, but the thought of it is frightening enough to pass that on to you.”
I chuckle, “See. You’re a great mentor, Bernadette.”
Everyone laughs.
Audrey says, “One imp is frightening enough. Hundreds of tiny greater imps is a horror beyond comprehension.”
“Exactly,” smirks Vanessa.
Bernadette nuzzles Clarice. “I’m rather fond of my little imp,” she says.
“I love you, Aunt A...Aunt Bernadette,” Clarice murmurs in Bernadette’s neck.
I think about the conundrum of the glyph for a bit. Maybe ‘Ag’ for Silberschmid in honor of my first ‘masterwork.’ ‘Pt’ and ‘Au’ for platinum and gold for my wedding bands to all my lady wives. I draw things in the air.
Bernadette shakes her head. “Keep it simple, William darling. Up, Clarice.” Bernadette draws on the paper - a backwards ‘B’ connected to a ‘P.’
I smile and draw it.
I watch her strokes as she does it.
Bernadette says, “Keep it simple so you can do it quickly if needed.”
