Under a Witch’s Spell – Chap 1 – by slick98
Mark meets Tatyana and despite having some great sex has no clue how his entire world will be turned upside down by the spell she casts. , Until about six months ago, I never put much stock in witchcraft or spells. I always envisioned them two ways: the Hollywood portrayal of good or bad and the kind of strange bunch that form covens and dance around fires in the forest. I never considered either representation as legitimate. Let’s face it, Hollywood depicted witches as evil green-faced hags flying on brooms or elegant beauties floating in air. The 60’ and 70’s didn’t alter the pattern much with a housewife good witch with a semi-hag mother or the sexy Elvira. The covens still roamed the forest and gained little image improvement with the movie, “The Blair Witch Project”.
Now I consider myself a relatively intelligent guy. I have run my own business for several years providing research and documentation as a logistic expert. I have built a steady clientele that pays the bills and lets me enjoy life. Every once and again I will pick up a bonus contract from a referral that will fill in open space on my calendar. Having just come off one such payday and not having anything slated for the next two weeks, I decided to treat myself by flying down to New Orleans for a 10-day getaway. I figured between the sights, the nightlife on Bourbon Street and the casinos, I could probably find something fun. Two days later I was on an afternoon flight with a hotel booked near Bourbon Street.
The evening I arrived, I didn’t figure to do much more than catch dinner at one of the Cajun joints, maybe get a beer at some dive and then crash back at the hotel. Dinner was nice as I always love that style food. I decided I would pop into a little bar I had passed in route to the restaurant for a cold one when heading back to the hotel. It was a little dead inside, probably because it was a Monday so I had no trouble getting a table or a waitress to take my order. She introduced herself as Tatyana and asked what she could bring me. I asked if they had any good local stouts and she said “sure, let me bring you our Voodoo Stout.” She returned minutes later with a pint glass of very dark beer with a small brown head of foam. Setting it down she smiled and said, “Enjoy, I’ll be back to check on you in a few.” As I started to sip the beer, I could pick up on the heavy notes of chocolate and coffee and found it quite enjoyable. After cleaning a couple tables and serving another customer, Tatyana returned to my table. Since there was little on the television, I had been watching her move around. She had quite a nice figure to go with her very attractive face. Her breasts were not huge but were well defined in her tight t-shirt. Her figure flowed nicely down to her hips and a tight, round ass was framed well in a pair of tight jeans. Standing in front of me she struck up a conversation.
TATYANA: “Since I haven’t seen you in here before, I’m guessing you’re a tourist.”
ME: “You could say that, I just flew in from Atlanta. I’m Mark, Mark Simons.”
TATYANA: “Business or pleasure?”
ME: “Strictly pleasure. Hoping to catch some nightlife and maybe a casino or two. You want to sit down?”
TATYANA: “Let me check on that other guy and maybe I will.”
She wandered over to the only other patron in the bar and after a brief discourse went and pulled his tab from the bar. Meanwhile, I was thinking ‘woo-hoo maybe I’ll get lucky the first night in town.’ As she dropped the receipt on the guest’s table, she thanked him for stopping in and invited him back anytime. Walking over to my table, she sat in the chair to my right. It was the first time I truly saw her face well and she was strikingly beautiful. I could not tell her eye color in the dimly lit bar but her eyes were mesmerizing. We chatted for quite a while about virtually everything but nothing of importance. Ironically or perhaps intentionally, through the over-an-hour-and-another-beer conversation, we avoided the three big items: politics, religion and sex. I did learn that Tatyana was from the bayou country near New Orleans and that she was named after her great-grandmother who was a powerful woman in their town. As the travel and beers started wearing on me, I told Tatyana it was about time for me to head out.
Frowning, she said, “Gee, you’re going to leave me here all by my lonesome? Where are you staying?”
ME: “I’m at the Crowne Plaza,” and then I rolled the dice. “Maybe you could swing by after work for a night cap?”
TATYANA: “Naw, I’m exhausted by the time I get outta here. I would show and just crash on you. How long are you here for?”
ME: “I’ve got 10 uncommitted days. Maybe you can show me some sites.”
TATYANA: “I’ll show you more than sites, if your game. I get off for a couple days, maybe we can get together,” and she winked at me.
Maybe it was the beer or maybe fatigue as I missed her insinuation of getting off together and said, “Uh, yeah, sure. What time you wanna meet?”
As she scribbled on a napkin, Tatyana said “come by my place 2-ish,” and handed me the paper.
As I threw $30 on the table and headed for the door, she smiled and said “Thanks for the tip, hope I get another one tomorrow.”
I didn’t miss that line and quipped, “I’ll hold up my end, just hope you do the same.”
I slept in the next day figuring I had nowhere to be before 2 and hoping to be out late that evening. Once awake and showered, I milled around the room. Time seemed to drag through the late-morning/early afternoon. I had checked the address and since the weather was mild and her place wasn’t far, I planned to walk. I left in sufficient time as not to arrive right at 2 as I didn’t want to seem over eager. It was about 2:20 when I knocked.
Tatyana answered the door in a halter top and tiny little blue jean shorts. I was taken aback now that I could see her in natural light. The eyes I was mesmerized with the night before were even more captivating. They were a gorgeous green and just seemed to hypnotize you. She said, “I had hoped you hadn’t chickened out” and stepped up to hug me. She pressed against me and my arm wrapped around her to squeeze her close. Feeling her breasts press against me, it didn’t take a sleuth to realize she was braless, which only raised my hopes of some action. She quickly retreated back into her place and gave me a view of her absolutely perfect ass scarcely contained in the shorts. “Come on in for a minute, then we’ll get going,” she said, followed with “I hope you got lots of rest ‘cause I’m gonna wear you out today. I hope you can keep up with me.”
I stepped in and pushed the door closed behind me, not sure how quick her minute would be. I assured her, “Give it your best shot; I think I can hang with just about anything.”
As she reached the raised bar that divided the living room from the kitchen, Tatyana turned toward me and said, “Before we go, there’s something I must tell you. And after you hear it, if you leave, I’ll understand. And if you start with jokes or crass comments, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
By now my mind was reeling, ‘What could she possibly tell me that would make me bolt or generate crass comments? What she really a he? Did she have some weird disease that meant sex was off the agenda? What?’
TATYANA: “I am a witch.”
ME: pausing a second, “Oh, okay. Does that mean our date’s off?”
TATYANA: “No, but some guys automatically think I’m nuts or start making fun of me or tell stale jokes I’ve heard too many times and I would hate for either of us to be surprised later.”
I blurt out, “I’m cool with it,” while the whole time my mind ran the gambit of nuts to a host of stupid witch comments. Ultimately, I think my lust overpowered any fear or stupidity. “Where we goin’ first?”
We spent several hours strolling through various parts of the French Quarter, checking out shops, her explaining some of the history and otherwise having a good time. On multiple occasions she would brush up against me with various parts of her body and one time backed her sweet little ass into my crotch as she bent over under the premise of looking at something on a shelf. Far be it from me to discourage her flirtatious overtures. I too took opportunities to press against her body or put my arm around her and pat her butt cheek. I think a blind man could see where all this was headed. If I was wrong, I would surely return to the hotel with a case of ‘blue balls’.
As the evening started to shade the area, I asked if she was hungry and wanted to stop somewhere. She smiled with a twinkle in her eyes and said, “No, I think we should head back to my place. I’m sure we can find something to eat there.” Pleased at the prospects that were unfolding, I laced my arm around her waist and said. “Lead on.” Fifteen minutes later we were opening the door to her place. As she goes into another room, she calls out, “There’s glasses in the cabinet by the fridge, ice in the freezer and liquor on the cart. Why don’t you pour us up something?”
“What’s your poison?” I ask as I gathered the glassware.
“Bourbon on the rocks,” she announced.
By the time I finish pouring up a pair of drinks, she is emerging from the other room having exchanged her halter top for a light, wispy blouse with a deep plunging neckline and only a couple buttons holding the front closed. As I handed her the drink, I quipped, “I thought you were going to wear me out today?” Tatyana led the way to her couch and motioned for me to sit and replied with a grin, “The day isn’t over yet.” I took a spot more or less in the middle to guarantee she would be close on one side or the other. She dropped onto one end and immediately plopped her long, lovely legs across my lap, crossing her ankles. As we sipped our cocktail and chatted, I took the liberty of slowly massaging Tatyana’s feet, first one then the other, working from the heel to the toes.
“That feels good,” she murmured.
ME: “I figured someone who’s on their feet all the time needs an occasional relief.”