- Joined
- Mar 14, 2015
- Location
- a fantasy land
I take the ring and place it on my finger. "Just a temporary measure, a placeholder for one I one day hope to get from your sister," I feel obliged to say. The past couple of days have been confusing for me, but I know that I love Karen and it will take much more than a magic-induced fuck to make me doubt it.
I watch you tern back to your normal self before casting the confusion spell. "Must be fun, being able to change the way you look on a whim, without all this mucking around with makeup." My eyes follow you across the room to the TV. "That's strange," I say, pointing at the screen, "either they got the wrong people or there's another couple that's been doing similar things." Then I notice your wide grin. "Wait..." You were telling me something just a moment ago, something about a spell... I try to remember what it was, something to do with confusion... It takes me a moment of concentration to figure it out, and the revelation only holds while I am actively thinking about it. "Fuck," I mutter, "I hate those spells that mess with the mind," but I have to admit that this one is pretty useful.
I head down to fetch the other bag, getting a little worried when I enter the lobby but the spell seems to be doing its job as nobody pays any special attention to me; even the receptionist that checked me in and is now back at the desk only gives me a polite smile before getting back to reading her magazine.
Back at the room, I give you the bag and turn away while you dress. Yes, I have seen you naked, and more than that, but old habits die hard.
When you're done, I sling the bags over my shoulder and we head back to reception. "Checking out, room 207," I tell the girl. She apologizes, saying that it may take some time since they cannot find the guestbook. "Sorry," I tell her, "we have a plane to catch," I drop the keys on the counter along with a $20 bill and turn to leave, and as usual, my confidence in Andrew Jackson's ability to smooth things proves to be warranted.
I bring the car from the underground parking to a nearby parking lot, leaving it there with the keys in the ignition. Hopefully this police business will blow over and the theft insurance will cover it. It is less than half a mile walk to the highway and the bags are only moderately heavy, but my shoulders thank me when I put them down. Several cars pass and then I spot a nice-looking motorhome coming our way. "Now's a good time to do your stuff," I tell you and start waving to flag it down.
Either whatever you're doing is working, or the driver is a friendly type, but the RV slows down and stops next to us. The passenger-side window rolls down and a silvery-haired woman that appears to be in her early sixties looks out. "Howdy," she greets us, "Where are you headed?"
"New Orleans," I say, "But anywhere along the route will be fine."
She exchanges a couple of sentences with the driver and turns back to us. "We are going to Houston with a stop in El Paso so we can either drop you off there or figure out if you'll continue with us. If it works for you, hop in."
"Works for us," I nod, grab the bags and open the rear door for you. "Ladies first."
Once inside, we sit down and make introductions. The woman introduces herself as Stephie and the driver -- a more quiet lady of a similar age -- as her wife, Jen, characterizing themselves as 'retired ex-hippies that decided to travel before they kick the bucket.' "If you're tired, you can use the bed in the back, it will take us about 8 hours to get to El Paso and we are fresh after a good sleep so you can have the back to yourselves. Or you can stay here and chat."
I watch you tern back to your normal self before casting the confusion spell. "Must be fun, being able to change the way you look on a whim, without all this mucking around with makeup." My eyes follow you across the room to the TV. "That's strange," I say, pointing at the screen, "either they got the wrong people or there's another couple that's been doing similar things." Then I notice your wide grin. "Wait..." You were telling me something just a moment ago, something about a spell... I try to remember what it was, something to do with confusion... It takes me a moment of concentration to figure it out, and the revelation only holds while I am actively thinking about it. "Fuck," I mutter, "I hate those spells that mess with the mind," but I have to admit that this one is pretty useful.
I head down to fetch the other bag, getting a little worried when I enter the lobby but the spell seems to be doing its job as nobody pays any special attention to me; even the receptionist that checked me in and is now back at the desk only gives me a polite smile before getting back to reading her magazine.
Back at the room, I give you the bag and turn away while you dress. Yes, I have seen you naked, and more than that, but old habits die hard.
When you're done, I sling the bags over my shoulder and we head back to reception. "Checking out, room 207," I tell the girl. She apologizes, saying that it may take some time since they cannot find the guestbook. "Sorry," I tell her, "we have a plane to catch," I drop the keys on the counter along with a $20 bill and turn to leave, and as usual, my confidence in Andrew Jackson's ability to smooth things proves to be warranted.
I bring the car from the underground parking to a nearby parking lot, leaving it there with the keys in the ignition. Hopefully this police business will blow over and the theft insurance will cover it. It is less than half a mile walk to the highway and the bags are only moderately heavy, but my shoulders thank me when I put them down. Several cars pass and then I spot a nice-looking motorhome coming our way. "Now's a good time to do your stuff," I tell you and start waving to flag it down.
Either whatever you're doing is working, or the driver is a friendly type, but the RV slows down and stops next to us. The passenger-side window rolls down and a silvery-haired woman that appears to be in her early sixties looks out. "Howdy," she greets us, "Where are you headed?"
"New Orleans," I say, "But anywhere along the route will be fine."
She exchanges a couple of sentences with the driver and turns back to us. "We are going to Houston with a stop in El Paso so we can either drop you off there or figure out if you'll continue with us. If it works for you, hop in."
"Works for us," I nod, grab the bags and open the rear door for you. "Ladies first."
Once inside, we sit down and make introductions. The woman introduces herself as Stephie and the driver -- a more quiet lady of a similar age -- as her wife, Jen, characterizing themselves as 'retired ex-hippies that decided to travel before they kick the bucket.' "If you're tired, you can use the bed in the back, it will take us about 8 hours to get to El Paso and we are fresh after a good sleep so you can have the back to yourselves. Or you can stay here and chat."