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I had never believed in magic. Which isn't to say that I had ever condescended to your hobby, but it would probably be fair to say that I'd always regarded it with a trace of amusement, as something not to be taken especially seriously.
And so, when you, my best female friend, asked me while drinking beers one night if I had your permission to cast a spell over me- "It's something that I have the strange feeling you'll like", was all you would tell me, with the hint of a smile- I shrugged and said okay. There weren't going to be any consequences one way or the other, so what was the harm?
That was what I thought, anyway, until I got home that evening. After a shower, lying down in bed, my thoughts drifted towards the black skirt you'd worn that night, the cute pink top, your smile. Surely it couldn't hurt to help myself relax just a little before falling asleep...
...about twenty-five minutes of edging later, of never quite being able to get over the edge and feel that warm powerful satisfaction, I gave up in frustration. Strange. This had never happened to me before. Maybe it was the alcohol? Maybe it was...
...and then I remembered what you'd said. The spell. "Something that I think you'll like." But there was no way...was there?
It was late, but I picked up my phone from the nightstand anyway. "Hey", I texted. "This will sound crazy, but I think I might have a guess about that spell you cast..."
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