Esther

NB: WIP. Please R&R

Esther eyeballed her little cousin, Natasha, who stood against the kitchen counter after dinner, arms folded across her ample chest.

“Esther, you can’t keep living like this! Find yourself a man and make a family! Stop insisting on being the black sheep in the family!” Natasha pouted as she stabbed Esther with verbal barbs. Esther balled her fists, nails deep in her palms, wishing she could smite that self-righteous little pout right off Natasha’s attractive face. That’s not to say that Natasha was incredibly so – she was simply easy on the eyes, with a simple oval face, almond shaped brown eyes and a soft mouth. Her hair was a dull mousy colour and it hung around her face like a plain frame. She was nineteen, two years younger than Esther and, in Esther’s opinion, really freaking annoying. She was already married to a mortal man, Harry, and she was six weeks pregnant with her first child.

In modern times, this was rather shocking but for this family, most of the witches were married off by eighteen and mothering little witches by twenty-five. Which is why Esther was such a black sheep – at twenty-one, she was unwed, living alone and regularly hexing the young men that her parents presented her with. While men were seen as equals, it was hard to find one with any form of supernatural power, short of being a champion in bed. Esther was far more attractive than Natasha; her hair was a rich chocolate brown that waved around her oval face, complementing her olive complexion. Her hazel eyes were large and expressive and her smile was full and mysteriously evil. Throughout her neighbourhood were dozens of men who would gladly sweep her up in their arms, if only they weren’t so fearful of her. Her confidence surrounded her like an aura; it rendered any man within two feet of her absolutely mindless. Esther was very used to men striding up to her with confidence, only to have them reach her and stutter something about buying her a drink. She would just shake her head and turn away, leaving them kicking themselves.

“Why can’t you be more demure like your cousin?” Esther’s mother, Mara pleaded. That provoked a bark of laughter from Esther’s throat.

“Demure? Tell me mother, is going up to the mailman and spreading one’s legs for him demure? That’s a new one to me!”

Natasha just about exploded with rage, but only because she knew it was true. Nonetheless, she balled her fists and hurled a hex in Esther’s general direction. Esther’s reflexes were lightning fast and the hex came hurtling back towards Natasha. It struck her chest and Natasha hiccupped.

“Watch yourself Natasha, you might like to think that you’re a minx but you’re nothing more than a newborn kitten,” Esther hissed. Natasha looked as though her head would explode and Mara regained her senses in time to push her out of the room.

“Esther, be gentle on her, she’s pregnant,” Mara pleaded softly.

“That’s no excuse for being an unbearable bitch for one’s entire life, now is it?”

“Esther! Don’t say that, she’s family.”

“Oh, that shitty little beast is no relation of mine. I’ll never claim her after my own blood.”

“Esther! Mind your manners, will you? I won’t have you using foul language in my presence!”

“How about fowl language? As far as I’m concerned, Natasha can go duck herself!”

Mara bristled with agitation and Esther laughed. Anyone who didn’t lose their senses once they reached her, soon found themselves losing a battle of wits.

“Esther, please.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. But Natasha has no right to tell me what to do with my life, I’m perfectly happy.”

Esther sat down, leaning back in the kitchen chair, placing her right ankle on her left knee, like a man.

“Oh Esther, close your legs. You’re pulling a Natasha!” exclaimed Dorian, Esther’s father, as he entered.

“Dorian!” Mara cried as Esther and he burst into gales of laughter.

“Well, I’m definitely going to leave before someone tries to murder me! Nice seeing you Dad, bye Mum.”

She kissed her parents cheeks and vanished from the house.

She returned to her own abode, a three bedroom apartment in suburban Sydney, a fair trek from her parents’ home in Wollongong, within three seconds of kissing her parents goodbye. The modern apartment was a nice change from the classic cottage that her parents owned.

She pointed at the stereo, Foo Fighters began playing throughout the apartment, and she moved into her bedroom to change out of the stifling blue blouse she wore for her mother’s sake. The blouse was sky blue, stiff through the sleeves and very uncomfortable. The a-line skirt irritated her too, but only because it swept her ankles and tickled the tops of her feet. She lay out a few items of clothing, a purple and black corset, a tight black skirt and a matching cropped blazer. She clicked her fingers and then searched for shoes to match. She picked a pair of ridiculously high black and purple pumps and pulled on a pair of thigh high lace grip sheer stockings before putting the shoes on.

She had her eyes made up to look large and cat-like, her mouth was dark and full and her bare skin shimmer and glowed. As soon as she finished, her mobile rang – it was her friend Christopher.

“Hello darling, how was the trip home?”

“Oh same old, I loathe Sydney traffic,” she smiled into the receiver.

“But are you ready to party tonight?” he purred.

“Of course darling, I just finished my makeup.”

“Well aren’t you a goddess – come on downstairs, I’m waiting.”

She laughed and hung up before grabbing her handbag and heading downstairs, preferring a mortal exit from the building.

Christopher sat in the driver’s seat of his tarty red convertible sports car. He wore a classically gay white shirt, open down to his sternum and tight dark jeans. A leather jacket worked well with his ensemble, the Village People black leather cap set it off.

“Well then, someone’s ready to party,” he purred and kissed her cheek. “I say we hit the Q Bar, the Black Eyed Peas are playing tonight.”

They entered the thumping club and approached the bar. There was a wide dance floor and a stage, on the lower level of the club, the upper level was devoted to the bar and an array of booths and tables. Christopher ordered a Harvey Wallbanger but Esther declined to indulge just yet. She hit the dance floor and soon found herself, as usual, gyrating with a tall, well built young man. He was tanned and muscular, very attractive and a very good dancer.

He followed Esther back to the bar and despite her greatest efforts, he spoke with confidence. He was incredibly charming with an obscure quality that piqued Esther's interest in him.

“How about I buy you a drink?” he asked, smiling with perfect white teeth. Esther’s eyes narrowed, here it came.

“Two conditions: firstly, your name and secondly, if you can guess my favourite drink in three guesses or less, then yes, you can,” she smiled with charm.

“Well, I’m sure most people would say that you’re a Sex on the Beach kind of girl, or maybe you like rum and coke but I reckon you’d prefer a Mai Tai, but only with Cointreau.”

Esther was stunned. He was right, most guys suggested Sex on the Beach with a leer or coddled her with rum and coke but she loved a good Mai Tai. Especially with Cointreau. She recovered as quickly as she could.

“But I still don’t know your name.”

“Damien, and your Mai Tai, miss?” he smiled, offering her the drink.

“Esther,” she stuttered, wondering where the hell the drink came from. She sipped it, watching him as he drank his own beverage, a Leg spreader, it seemed. She finished her drink and then dragged him back to the dance floor. She wanted more now.

She finally found Christopher several hours later, wrapped around another man and he bid her goodnight before returning to sucking face. Esther left the club on high, following Damien to his car down the street. He opened the door of the dark green BMW convertible for her and carefully shut it. She buckled up and he pulled out of the spot.

“So, your place or mine, angel?” he grinned at her. She laughed, and considered bringing him back to her place. Not yet, she decided. She’d had men before, she’d enjoyed it too, but the men she chose were few and far between. They zipped over to his place, a flat similar to hers, which had two bedrooms and a large balcony.

The apartment was well furnished with a plush leather suite in front of a wide screen television in the living room, which was painted the same neutral cream tone as the rest of the apartment, save a feature wall. It was deep red, which complemented the dark leather lounge suite very well.

He led her out to the balcony and offered her a drink. She declined, mesmerized by the view over the harbor.

They lay in his king size bed, wrapped around each other as Esther’s mind was slowly clicking into gear and planning her escape.

The bedroom was very large, with an ensuite; all in that pale cream colour but above the bed was a large framed image of black and white photo that was taken of a mountain range. The black mountains were foreshadowed by wispy clouds and lush trees.

Damien slowly but surely drifted off in a post orgasm haze and she carefully extracted herself from him. She gathered her clothes and vanished from the apartment. It was five o’clock on a Sunday morning when she reappeared in her own bedroom. She left her clothes on her bed and went naked into the bathroom. Her mirror over the sink was large and her reflection greeted her when she entered. She noticed the large purple and red marks on her chest, stomach and thighs made from the animalistic sex she’d just enjoyed and grinned evilly, thinking of the larger, more painful marks she’d left on him. She showered, washing his scent from her, and dried off before sliding into bed.

It was one o’clock when she awoke, stretching and smiling. She lay quietly for a moment before realizing that she wasn’t in her own bed. No, wait, she was. But there was someone else in it. Damien. He had his arms around her and she had been curled against his chest like a lover. He awoke when she flew out of the bed, totally naked, and shrieked.

“What is it? Is my hair that messy?” he was stunned awake but still quick on his feet.

“What are you doing here?” she yelled. Even naked and indignantly horrified, she held an air of confidence, albeit a shaken one.

“Well, after you promptly vanished from my apartment, you forgot something.”

“What?”

“Me. Haven’t you ever slept with a warlock before?”

“You’re a warlock! Why didn’t you tell me?” she was truly enraged now, pulling at her hair while she paced the room.

“Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming about being a witch, were you?”

“Well then, how could you tell I was one?”

“Warlocks can sense these things; you emanate it like an aura or a scent that attracts us. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure it out when you vanished without a sound and I found myself lying in your bed while you were in the shower. I tried to leave but you’ve trapped me here.”

“WHAT!”

“Calm down petal, I’m not that bad in bed am I?”

“Well, I didn’t mean it like that – stop changing the subject! How do we fix this?”

“We don’t. Or moreover, we can’t.”

“What do you mean, we can’t?”

“I mean we can’t. Didn’t your mother ever tell you – in the old days, witches and warlocks used to go around rooting anyone they pleased, of course that led to no one knowing who was whose kid. So they made it so that anyone with the power in their blood who slept with another one with power in their blood was bound to them for eternity. Tidied up that mess quick fast, I’ll tell you that. Of course, things aren’t as strict now – we each have our freedom of going in opposite directions but you can’t leave me. Just as I can’t leave you, if either of us vanishes for the sake of vanishing from each other’s presence, as you tried this morning, the other is dragged along, or the first person can’t vanish.”

Her mind reeling, Esther sat down on the floor. Oh god, she did remember her mother telling her this, but warlocks were so rare, she never paid it any heed. Her head snapped up.

“Wait, you knew I was a witch and you knew we’d be stuck together! Why would you sleep with me knowing that would happen?”

“Well, I finally found an unwed witch the same age as I. Fortunately for me, she was incredibly good looking and lots of fun too. Pardon me for thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

She flew at him and pinned him to the bed, straddling his bare chest.

“I should maim you for not telling me that you were a warlock.”

“I think you’d find that an exercise in futility. I’m far more powerful, simply because the spell prevents us from harming each other.” He was nonchalant as he put his hands behind his head and observed her face as her mind raced. Finally her shoulders slumped and she sighed, rolling off him. She lay beside him, the fight had gone out of her, and she resigned herself to this fate. He sighed and rolled onto his side, tucking an arm around her. She didn’t fight, but let him cuddle her.

“It’s not so bad to be stuck with me,” he said softly. “I can cook and everything.”

That got a laugh out of her as she rolled over to face him but suddenly her face paled and her eyes widened.

“Oh no. Oh shit, oh fuck, oh crap…”

“What?”

“We have to get married don’t we?”

“Yes, I suppose we do.”

She groaned and her head curled towards his chest. He brought her closer still and hugged her.

“It won’t be so bad, I promise. I don’t snore.”

“Oh, it’s not you, it’s my family! Oh god, Natasha will never let me hear the end of it, my mother will praise some power above and oh god, it’ll be unbearable.”

“Hey, hey calm down. Who cares about them? It’ll be fine. Now how about some breakfast, er, lunch?”

“Okay,” she said meekly, but she had her arms around him now and didn’t appear to be disengaging herself from him. He sighed and cuddled her until she finally released him. He left her in the bed and whipped up bacon and eggs for her. They ate out on her relatively smaller balcony which looked out over the suburbs. Esther slowly thought things over as she ate, watching Damien sometimes as he looked out at the view. So she’d essentially been tricked into marriage and humiliation at the hands of her family but at least she had someone to show off now. He was incredibly attractive – dark hair and olive skin, with eyes like pools of mercury, a dark gray. His strong jaw was growing a slight shadow, she remembered the time. It was three o’clock.

“Can we leave each other if we just want to get affairs in order? Can we vanish that way?”

“I think so, we’ll give it a try soon.”

“No rush,” she smiled, wondering about the size of those bruises. He had conjured some clothes, a soft jersey and jeans and suddenly she couldn’t wait to get him out of them. As they tidied the kitchen, she found herself gravitating towards him, enjoying every time his hand brushed hers. When the last dish was loaded into the dishwasher, Esther couldn't help herself. She pinned him against the sink and kissed him hard. His whole body was vibrating against hers as she dragged him into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed.

At least three rounds later, Esther found herself curled up on Damien's chest as they watched TV on her dark green velour couch. She felt exhausted and dreaded the next day which would bring another day of work as a magazine editor. Damien kissed her forehead as she crawled off him and took herself off to bed.

When she woke up, Damien had his arms around her and she lying on top of him once more. Her muscles were tight and sore and she winced as she got out of bed and nearly had to crawl into the shower.

The hot water loosened her muscles and woke her up. She stepped out of the shower, feeling a bit more alive and began towel drying her long hair. It was six forty-five and she had to be at work by nine.

She was leisurely about her morning routine, getting a bowl of cereal while Damien slept on. She was just about to leave when he came out into the kitchen, in boxer shorts.

"I'm heading off to work, we'll talk later?"

"Yep," he smiled at her. "Do I get a goodbye kiss?"

She kissed him and then left, leaving him to wake up completely.

Work was hideous; whingy models in photo shoots, perverted photographers and too many phone calls. She got home in a foul mood, to an empty apartment. The kitchen was spotless and the bed was made. Just those two facts warmed her, weights off her mind. This thing wasn't half bad, she thought.

She set down her things on the dining table and went to the bedroom to undress and have a hot shower. She felt the day's stresses being rinsed from her tired muscles, the aches and pains slipped from her body.

She emerged from the shower, steam rising off her skin and wrapped herself in a fluffy green towel. Damien came in as she put the towel on the bed and put on underwear, he stood in the doorway watching her and when she realized he was there, she jumped.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she cried.

"I'm sorry, I was just mesmerised by the fact that you were totally naked."

"Like you haven't seen it all before."

"Not with the lights on."

She was silent before turning away and putting on some pajamas. She hung the towel up in the bathroom and then walked to go out the bedroom but he stood in the doorway. She glowered up at him. She was in a foul mood still, despite her shower. Her hair hung wet down her shoulders, soaking her silk top.

Damien's brow furrowed. He kissed her forehead and put his arms around her. She melted against him and he led her back to the bathroom, picked up the towel. He placed it over her head and rubbed gently, drying her hair.

"Don't let those pretty pj's get wet, no matter how sexy you look with wet hair."

She was still quiet.

"What's wrong?" he asked, ducking his head to look at her eyes, which were becoming moist. She bit her lip but the tears fell. Damien put his arms around her and she cried against his chest. He led her to the bed and lay down next to her and she pressed herself against him, quietly crying.

She finally stopped crying and appeared to be sleeping. Damien carefully extracted himself from her and looked at the clock. It was seven o'clock and he was quite hungry. He covered Esther with a blanket and went into the kitchen to cook some dinner.

He had just finished making two serves of pasta when Esther entered the kitchen. She came up behind him and hugged him, her head against his back.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was like a little girl sometimes, despite her ferocity. She sat on the couch next to him, cross-legged, with her bowl in one hand as he picked up the remote.

They watched ridiculous re-runs of Will and Grace as they ate dinner; both rinsed out the empty bowls in the sink and loaded them into the dishwasher. It was nine-thirty and Damien lay on the couch, with Esther curled up on his chest, her dry, wavy hair spread out like a silk fan.

Finally, at eleven thirty, Damien went to get up and nearly tipped Esther onto the floor without thinking. He wasn't used to the weight on his chest, but that's not to say he didn't like it. He carried her into the bedroom and once more lay her down on the bed, under the blanket. He slipped into the bed eagerly, cherishing the feeling of her body against his. She tucked against him neatly, he listened to her breathing and indulged in the scent of her hair.

The next morning, Esther woke groggily peering at the clock. And swore. It was nine-thirty and she'd slept through her alarm clock. She hurtled towards the bathroom, leaving Damien in the bed. She babbled a string of profanities - she'd have to use magic to make it.

She was in the office, totally composed by nine-thiry-one. She breezed past her receptionist and apologized to her personal assistant, Moira. Moira was a slender blonde, with classic Nordic features and a gentle manner but Esther didn't doubt that she had a sharper side. There was something about her that kept Esther on her guard at all times in her presence. Moira handed her some envelopes containing letters for columns and the like before fetching a glass of water for Esther's desk.

"Thank you Moira, you're too kind," Esther genuinely smiled at her, despite her own cranky mood.

"Anytime Miss. Your presence is requested at the photo shoot in at the docks at one. It's the shoot for the main fashion section this month."

Esther smiled. "Thank you very much."

Moira returned to her own desk while Esther organized her mind.

The photo shoot was for the fashion section, the theme was nautical or something like that. Basically the girls had to dress up like sailors. And so did one of the blokes.

There were three girls, a dirty blonde twig with a sour expression, a petite brunette with large eyes and a big breasted blonde who would have suited a porn set better than here. The two male models were chisel-featured and muscular. The fair blonde was chatting them up, while her darker counterpart glowered at her and the brunette sat quietly in the makeup artist's chair.

The chatty buxom one's name was Desiree, the sourpuss was Wendy and the sweetest of the three was Jade. The male models were Brian and Caleb and both were mesmerised by Desiree's breasts.

The 'set' was the local beach and more importantly, the pier. The makeup trailer was set up, lights and everything as the photographer got his act together. Clothing had three assistants and a manager brushing out garments and checking sizes.

An array of sailor's shirts, cropped pants, ties and hats lined the clothing trailer. Esther took a deep breath and set about co-ordinating the shoot. She spoke to the photographer and mentioned the yacht at the pier. It had been hired for the shoot and was quite luxurious. The photographer had places he wanted to use and she let him organize that part while she helped the clothing manager organize the models. Each of the models had to be given base makeup so while the four makeup artists fussed over the models, Esther lay out twenty five outfits, five for each model.

Desiree happily bounced over to put on her first outfit and Esther sent her across to the photographer who requested one of the male models as well. Esther gave Brian a complementary outfit to Desiree's and the photographer did his own magic as Esther heard Wendy shriek and unleash a strinig of obscenities. She raced over to the makeup trailer. Wendy was inspecting her left hand, one of her fingers in particular.

"What's going on?" Esther asked, dreading the answer. Wendy piped up before anyone else could open their mouth.

"I reached for my bottle of water and I hit my hand on the table. My nail's broken," she moaned.

Esther resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Show me."

The nail had chipped slightly on the edge, Esther grabbed a nailfile and carefully filed it into a neat shape. Wendy's bottom lip quivered.

"Oh come on, it's hardly a mortal injury. Don't be so precious, it's hardly going to ruin your career," Esther said as she filed her other nails to match the slightly shorter one. "Greg, keep going with her makeup while I do this."

Greg, the youngest artist warily approached the model and with steady hands continued applying her makeup, sweat beading on his forehead as he cowered under Wendy's glower.

"Wendy, put your face right. We can always find another model who'd be grateful to be here."

Wendy's expression changed. She was suddenly compliant and pleasant. After sending her to the clothing trailer, Esther commented on her attitude change.

"Isn't odd how having a threat present changes everything?"

Greg wiped his forehead and Esther patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry about those princesses, you do a fine job."

She returned to the pier and the yacht. the photographer's assistant, Wes, had Caleb lying on a luxurious couch on the upper deck, wearing an open shirt and neat pants. Desiree was crawling over him, one knee between his open thighs, her hands just past his head and back. Her other leg was extended, touching the floor, to balance her. Caleb had a fabulous view down Desiree's low cut top and his hands were on her slim waist.

"Stop."

Wes lowered his camera and turned to Esther.

"Desiree, get up. Caleb sit up. Wes, you can't see his shirt properly past her leg - you can't see much at all except for his hardon and the profile of her tits. This isn't soft core porn, it's fashion. Where's Dave gone?"

Wes looked frantically for his boss, who had gone to the bathroom. Dave returned as Esther repositioned the models to have Desiree sitting at the bow, turned to face out to sea while Caleb put his arms around her to steady her. Esther muttered something to Dave about keeping an eye on Wes, he had a very creepy vibe. She caught him leering at the models more than once and instructed him firmly to return to Dave and do as he was told instead of wasting time.

He slunk back to the dock and obligingly held camera equipment. Esther shook her head. The second time she caught him, she was getting short.

"Wes, are you a clothing assistant?"

"No," was the churlish reply.

"Then listen up, you surly adolescent. Get back to the yacht and do as Dave tells you. I highly doubt he sent you up here to leer at Jade while she puts on her shoes."

The reply was muttered and profane. Esther snapped and grabbed his collar, lifting him off the ground. He wasn't large at only nineteen at about five foot nine, but he was still an inch taller than Esther. Esther held him against the trailer.

"Maybe you weren't paying attention to me. This is a fashion shoot, you're here to do a job. This is not an opportunity for you to perve on girls," she snarled. "You have exactly thirty seconds to get your slimy backside down to that dock and do as you're asked before I throw you out of the job so fast, you'll have skid marks on your knees."

She released him and he landed on his feet, scuttling back to Dave's side. She glared at his retreating back.

"I hate people," she grumbled before helping Jade walk across the sand without falling over in her boots. Jade was positioned on the edge of the deck, her boots dangling next to the yacht's name. The other models were still up on the deck, in their final outfits. They were all finished and having a chat at the bow. Suddenly Desiree shrieked. There was a splash.

"Fuckity fuck fuck goddamn son of a fuck!" Esther's eye twitched as she realized that Desiree was in the water. Wendy was relatively quick, grabbing the life preserver and throwing it down. Desiree was a strong swimmer and kicked over to the ladder. Esther grabbed towels from the clothing trailer, thank God they were prepared to survive a bomb-drop. She wrapped her in a towel and led her to the clothing trailer. They gave her back her original clothes and Esther dried Desiree's hair as she sat in a chair, in her own clothes.

"What happened?" she asked the model.

"We were just fooling around and I was sitting on the rail and I slipped."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do I need to file any paperwork?"

"No."

"Call me if I need to."

"Okay."

With the last shots taken, Esther helped pack up and then returned to the office, drained. At five o'clock, she locked up her office, sent Moira home and returned home.

The apartment was empty, and then Esther realized she knew next to nothing about Damien, not his last name, his phone number, his job, nothing. She furrowed her brow as she thought about it and was deep in thought, leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a glass of water when Damien appeared in front of her. She started and dropped the glass, which promptly shattered.

"What the hell!" she yelled, startled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she growled, making a motion at the glass, which promptly rearranged itself as a cup once more. She rinsed it and began emptying the dishwasher in silence.

"What's wrong tonight?"

She didn't reply, just shook her head sullenly. He shrugged and stepped out of her way.

"What's the matter?"

She stopped and looked at him firmly.

"What's going on with us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you here? We sleep together once, we can't escape each other but what are we doing about it? Are we going out or what?"

He was quiet for a bit. Esther continued unloading the dishwasher in silence.

"Well, what do you want us to be?" he finally asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I hardly even know you, I don't know anything about you at all."

"Well, what is there to know?" he laughed softly.

"Everything. I don't even know your last name."

"Wood."

"Okay. What about what you do and what you like and that sort of thing?"

"Well, I'm CEO of Margate Inc."

"Okay, maybe we need to have an actual talk as opposed to just having sex and sleeping all the time."

"Maybe we do."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you being derisive?"

"Me? Not at all."

"Yes you are! Don't you care about any of this?"

He shrugged. If Esther were a cat, her ears would have flattened against her head and she would have hissed. But in human form, all she could do was take a deep breath and tell him to get out.

"Whatever, just go then. It's obvious that you don't care about any of this and that's fine. Just leave."

Damien made an agitated noise and turned away, vanishing as he did. Esther felt an odd dropping sensation in her stomach as she put the last plate away and realized she was no longer in her apartment. She stood on a beach and she could see the water stretching out in front of her, towards a sinking sun. Damien stood a little way off, walking towards the water. She remembered the curse but didn't move. She sat down on the still warm sand and watched the sun set.

The waves crashed softly on the shore as she watched Damien walk north along the water's edge. He was barefoot and his cream pants were rolled up to the knee. His striped business shirt was open and the wind pushed it apart to reveal his bare chest. Even in the dying light, Esther could see the signs of their ferocious love games.

Damien stood, facing away from her, a few metres away. He was knee deep in the water which swirled around his muscular calves. Neither one moved for a very long time, the moon came out and the stars twinkled at them before Damien finally turned around and approached her.

He sat down next to her, not quite touching her, with his knees up, and his elbows on them. She sat with her knees up to her chin and her arms around her legs. Still silence.

Damien was the first to speak after at least half an hour of silence.

"My parents were both raised on neighbouring farms and knew each other since they were twelve. They started going out when they were seventeen and had my brother and I after they moved to the city. I liked to play soccer and go surfing and if I have time, I like to go surfing and scuba diving. I had a dog when I was eight, named Dwarf and he was a mutt who followed me home one day. He died when I was twenty, of old age and I still have his collar and dog tag."

Esther was quiet, he wasn't finished.

"I got my job through nepotism but no one else knows that. My distant cousin on my mother's side needed a face for his company and decided to use me. I don't actually do much, just sit in on meetings and make decisions. This beach is where I come to cool off, a little further up is a cove where you can swim in and sit when its low tide."

He pointed.

"I want to have a family and settle down, I don't find nightclubs as fun anymore, I'm tired of seeing photographs of my colleagues' kids stuck up everywhere on their desks whereas mine has nothing. I don't think I could have kids with a mortal woman, they don't understand."

Esther nodded but was still quiet for a few more minutes before speaking.

"I'm an only child to a witch and a mortal and my parents live down in Wollongong. My cousin Natasha gives me the shits because she's a prissy bitch who I've had to deal with since she was three and her father up and left. She's nineteen and married with a bun in the oven. I'm the head of fashion editor for a local magazine, I made friends with the right people at a young age. I deal with prissy models and sleazy photographers most days and have more than once used magic to tell someone off."

She stopped and thought.

"I hate citrus fruit. Too sour."

"Me too," he said softly. "And peas."

"But corn on the cob is the best."

"With lots of butter."

She smiled. "My first familiar was a grey cat. He vanished one day when I was nineteen. I found his collar on my pillow when I woke up. No one could tell me anything."

"About two years ago, I found a grey cat on my doorstep, without a collar. He coughed up a dead mouse and then disappeared."

"Sounds like Muffin."

"Had a little white patch on his chest?"

"Wow, Muffin got around."

"And left gifts."

"Yeah. At least it was your doorstep, not your pillow."

"Ew."

"No kidding."

"I want to name the kids."

"I got dibs on middle names."

"Uh oh."

"Danger, Trouble, Sproglet."

"Oh boy."

"Deal with it."

"I don't have to, but they do."

She smiled and put her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead.

"Your place or mine, angel?"

"Both. You go to yours and I'll go to mine. But only because two people won't fit under a rock."

They both laughed and embraced before going to their respective homes.

Over the next three weeks, they discussed marriage. Esther was reluctant to have a big wedding but Damien insisted.

Esther woke up three months after the wedding, lying in Damien's bed; her own place was being rented. Damien was asleep with his arm around her and she sat up. Nausea.

Esther carefully touched her belly after liberating her stomach's contents as a sacrifice to the porcelain god. Slightly bloated and tender, she sighed. She conjured a pregnancy test. Hmm, pretty blue dipstick.

"Damien," she called to him. He came into the bathroom and asked if she was all right.

"Your supply of condoms is suffering from a factory defect known as a pinhole."

Damien's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Unless it's the second coming of Jesus."

"Right...now what?"

She sat, leaning against the cabinet with her legs out in front of her.

"Well now I'm up the duff."

Silence and then, "Is that where we want to be?"

"There's no 'we' in this. I'm pregnant. I'm going to become the Hindenburg II."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Depends. Are blimps sexy?"

Damien was quiet.

"Listen, do we want this baby or not?"

"You're very unemotional about all this, that's your flesh and blood you're talking so nonchalantly about."

"Takes two to tango, tiger. You contributed half of the chromosomes, which is why, if said flesh and blood stuffs up, I can blame your side of the family."

"Because your side is infallible?"

"Fuck no. It's just easier to blame your genes."

"Charming."

"Sorry. Do I have to push a watermelon through a keyhole or shall we wait a few years?"

Damien looked uncomfortable. "I want to be a dad," he said softly.

"Well congrats. You're a daddy-to-be." She stood slowly and hugged him.

End