A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
|Previously: "A Test for Teacher"
Why do you think I want to get together with you tonight? Sydney—a.k.a. Michael Hagerman—asked you this morning. It was a question that leaves you fluttering with anxiety.
Because it's a question that pulls both of your two personalities—your own, and the one you've borrowed from Hannah Cho—in opposite directions. Hannah gets an erotic twinge of appreciation every time she sees Michael Hagerman, but she is also extremely virginal—she is, in fact, a virgin—and the thought of tumbling straight into bed with a guy, even one as attractive (and now as "safe" to be with as the new Michael Hagerman) fills her with a fearful reluctance. As for yourself, you would be even slower to get in touch with another guy's sausage. But it's not Michael Hagerman you'd be making out with, it would be Sydney McGlynn, and you'd be giving yourselves to each other, even if it is from inside some borrowed bodies.
So you're jumpy all the next day, especially during those moments when you step out between classes. You can't help spotting Michael Hagerman lurking in his classroom doorway just down the hallway. He is tall and strong and broad-shouldered, and he always seems to be looking in your direction, and his eyes light up and his mouth curves into a soft grin when he sees you. His gaze makes you melt.
The worst moment, though, comes when Nora Goretsky catches you in the teacher's lounge during your lunch break. She flashes you a private smirk as she prepares herself a sandwich, looking like the proverbial "cat that caught the canary." After she's let you prickle with worry and confusion for several long minutes, she comes out with it.
"So I saw you leaving school with Michael yesterday," she says.
"What?" you exclaim. "Oh. Yes." You look away.
"Uh huh," she echoes. "Just happened to be leaving together?"
"I love coincidences like that," she says, and walks off with a private laugh.
You grit your teeth and cuss to yourself. The last thing you and Sydney want is people gossiping about Hannah and Michael.
Mr. Leopold, who is sitting at the table, ostentatiously keeps his gaze locked onto his iPad.
* * * * *
You make a point of texting Michael that you'll be leaving separately and that he should call or text when he's ready to come over to your place. He replies with a pouty-face emoji. You text him that Nora saw the two of you leaving together yesterday. That provokes a laughing emoji. You make a face and toss your phone away. "Austin! Eyes on your own paper!" you snap at the boy who's raised his head and is pretending to stare out the window while actually scoping out the spelling test of his neighbor. He gives you a tired look, and goes back to scribbling on his own test.
You're grateful that Michael doesn't show up at your place until six-thirty. "I had to do my workout anyway," he says as you let him in. (His hair is damp, and he looks freshly showered and laundered in a plaid shirt and fresh jeans.) "I missed it yesterday, you know. And how are you?" He drops his satchel to the floor and with one strong arm pulls you to him. "I brought my toothbrush," he adds after he's kicked the front door shut behind him. "Dog is fed, but I'll have to go out sometime this evening and tomorrow morning to let him out."
Then his mouth is over yours, and his tongue goes for your tonsils.
You tense all over. But as he hugs you close, and digs even deeper inside your mouth, the tension leaks and dribbles off you. He moves down to your neck, biting and nibbling while caressing your lower back and butt, leaving you a soft and nerveless thing in his arms. "I need to drain the noodles," you sigh.
"Mmm. That sounds like dirty talk."
"I'm talking about dinner."
"Mmm, good," he says between bites. "I'm starving."
Starving for more than food, it seems like. It's many long moments before you're able to pull away from him and lead him back into the kitchen. He follows close behind, and nestles you into the curves of his body as you drain the noodles. You almost drop the pot when he reaches around and goes for your cooch. "Jeez!" you exclaim.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Is this you being in character?"
"I guess." He nuzzles the back of your neck.
"I mean—" You jump a little as he nips at you. "Is this what he does on a first date?" you squeak.
"No. But I wasn't thinking of this as a first date. We've been on lots of dates already, Will."
You stiffen. "Oh. Is that what we were doing?"
You feel him pull away from you, but you concentrate on the noodles.
"What did you think we were doing, Will?" he says. "You know, I'd have jumped your bones weeks ago, except— Besides," he interrupts himself, "it'll be more powerful, do us more good in the long run, if we do it this way, under the gaze of Baphomet."
The invocation of that name gives you a thrill. Whether of horror or of excitement, you're not sure.
* * * * *
You were going to prepare a fairly elaborate meal of herbed pasta with Italian sides, but Sydney is so anxious to relieve herself that you content yourselves with some buttered noodles and a salad pack before moving into the bedroom. Sydney whips off her clothes and has one knee on the bed while you're still peeling off your underthings. Then you're between the sheets with her atop you.
She begins with a fast deflowering of you, ramming a hard cock deep inside you and not waiting for you to warm yourself before cumming. She doesn't even pause to recover before turning you over and putting you on your knees to take you doggie-style. You're astonished to find she's hard again. But then she changes position, and that's when you realize she's slowly pleasuring you with a dildo.
Actually, it's her meditation wand she's using on you. She works it into you slowly. Now that you're warmed, you do come, crying out silently as you grip the wooden rod with unpracticed muscles.
She doesn't let up. Overall, she—or Michael—prefers the missionary position, but the wand is always part of the game, and she slides into various orifices (including anally, inside herself) or between your breasts. It starts as a toy or a tool, but by the time you are lying in the dark, panting from multiple exertions, with the wand between your hot, sweaty bodies, it has become almost the third in a three-way.
The clock is showing eleven, and you have been grinding at each other for hours, when he leaves—briefly, he tells you—to run home to let the dog out. You can't stop yourself from falling asleep. You wake only once during the night, to find arms wrapped around you. "Spooning" it is called. But under the circumstances, it is more like "wrapping a carcass" about yourself.
* * * * *
Michael wakes you briefly at five-thirty when he crawls from bed to go home, and you're up an hour later when he texts. I want two new recruits by tomorrow afternoon, he writes, so we can have the weekend to break them in. It seems like a rush—you barely feel like you've gotten used to Hannah, and Sydney has only had a day as Michael. But you dutifully text back, Okay. Who?
Think about it today, talk over ideas ths afternoon, he replies. As today is Thursday, that will only give you tomorrow to capture and replace a pair of students.
Sydney could pick out some juniors from the classes that Mr. Hagerman teaches, but you've got a list of possible freshmen already going. And you've not forgotten that Hannah's little sister could act as your passport to the sophomore class.
But you realize you've been going at the job half-assed when Sydney sends you a longer text: We should keep the genders balanced, she writes. Pick four boys and four girls, two to a class. Do we want them BF/GF in all classes or mixed? When you ask her to clarify, she sends some abbreviations: bb, gg, bg, gb. It takes you a moment to decipher her meaning: Pick two boys in one class, two girls in a second, and a boy-plus-girl mix in the other two, presumably with one of you taking the boy role in one class and the girl role in the other.
You mull this over breakfast, and text back: Start with a boyfriend and girlfriend. She replies, Okay, I'll take the girl. Got any good picks in your classes?
* To pick the freshman class: "Freshman Frolics"
* To pick the junior class: "Junior League"