The Price of Magic

Amy was again shocked. Did they not see her get fucked just now? And what would Michael say? Would he deny that anything had happened or would he claim she had initiated it? A million questions went through her head, but one took precedence of them all. What if she got arrested for indecent exposure and it went on her permanent record? Tears slid down her cheeks as she slowly pulled up her thong and straightened her skirt. She stood up and got in her car.

A weight was pressing down on her chest, making her feel out of breath. If she filed a report against Michael and had him arrested under charges of rape, all of their friends would come forward and testify that she had been wearing next to nothing on the previous night and dancing lewdly. She'd go to trial to restore her reputation, only to get painted a whore by people who knew her, for all the world to see. That decided it. She was getting the hell away from this house. She was going home to take a shower and have herself a good cry and pretend this never happened. She didn't know how she could pretend one of her best friends in the whole world, a married man, hadn't bent her over the hood of her car and taken her in broad daylight. She dreaded to even think what life would be like for her from now on as she could never again face either Michael or Julia.

As soon as she came home, she locked the door behind her and chained it, as well. She sat on her couch and saw the light blink on her answering machine. For a long time she just watched the little, red light blink on and off. She was feeling empty inside.

Suddenly, her phone rang, nearly sending her jumping out of her own skin. "Shit," she exclaimed. The machine soon picked up. Amy unbuttoned her coat and put a hand to her thumping chest.

Julia's voice was heard saying, "Uh, Amy, why aren't you answering your cell? Anyway, a police officer was just here." Her voice was apologetic. "He, uh, he came to the house, all sad and stuff, and he described you and your car and asked if someone who matched those descriptions drove away from our house lately. Now, Michael and I got scared that something had happened to you. We thought you had an accident, or something, so we told him who you were and where you lived. Michael tore through my phone, you should have seen him, his thumbs were on fire, I swear! Anyway, he found the numbers for your brother, mother and even the old number I had for your dad and we gave it all to him. We even told him where you worked.

"It was only then that the sneaky shit told us you were fine." Now Julia paused and continued in a reproachful tone of voice, "Apparently, our neighbors, the Fletchers, called the police and said that you had mooned them. Imagine our shock at hearing that! Mooning a couple in their seventies!" Julia sighed and continued with an undertone of pity in her voice, "Listen, Amy. You're a pretty girl and you'll find someone, I promise. There's no call for you to act and dress as slutty as you did last night. I'm starting to get worried about you. Call me, darling! Oh, yeah! Don't forget, he'll probably come to your place next! The cop, I mean. Not mister Fletcher. Bye!"

Amy shut her eyes. That was all she needed. A public indecency charge. "Those fucking deaf, dumb and blind, old farts," Amy swore. "How the fuck could they not see Michael fucking me!? How the fuck could they not hear me..." Amy's voice trailed off. She was shocked at this development. She had no idea what to say to the police when they came around. Obviously, Michael had not said anything to Julia and that almost certainly meant that he had not said anything to the cop, either. Perhaps she should claim ignorance of the whole matter. She groaned in frustration.

The best thing for her to do would be to say nothing and have a lawyer do all of her talking for her. "As if I could afford to hire a lawyer." Every penny she could spare, she had given to her brother already. Experimental cancer treatments cost an arm, a leg and whatever else you could spare.

Amy looked to the door of her small kitchen. She wasn't hungry and she certainly didn't need coffee today, but there was an almost full bottle of bourbon in one of the cupboards. If there had ever been a time in Amy's life to start drinking before five, it was right now.

She took off her coat and almost got off the couch to fetch the bottle when she remembered that drinking too heavily the night before contributed to her current predicament. "But not as much as you did," she said to her crotch, accusingly. In a sudden fit of anger, Amy made a fist and brought it down hard on her own pussy.

Amy let out an agonized yelp and curled up into a fetal position on the couch. She hissed through her teeth in pain. "Fuck," she groaned aloud. "Why'd I do that?" The throbbing eased up and then the pain began to lessen, but the agony remained. Amy slowly slipped her hand under her skirt and into her thong. She gently touched the abused flesh and winced at the contact. It still hurt and she began to worry that she might have actually injured herself. She imagined what it would be like for her to show up in an emergency room and tell a doctor that she had punched herself in the crotch. She'd be sent to the psych ward and committed, especially if some cop showed up and asked why she had exposed herself to Julia's elderly neighbors.

She lifted her hips and slowly slid her thong down her legs. She kicked it off and it landed on her coffee table. She put both her hands under her skirt and began to stroke and tickle the flesh of her vulva to make it stop hurting so much. As her fingers lightly tickled over her lips, the agonizing pain gave way to arousal. Amy didn't want to jill herself off in her current circumstances, but it was a most pleasant alternative to her self inflicted pain, so she kept at it. She kept herself aroused enough to not feel pain anymore and did not even think about approaching the plateau of orgasm.

Amy slowly let out a deep breath and relaxed. The tension of the day was slipping away from her. The fear of police questioning went away. The shame and disgust she had seen in Julia's eyes vanished but it made her think of the fire in the eyes of the man from last night. The memory of their fervent fucking surfaced and made her smile. It had truly been the best fuck of her life. Her fingers found her clit and she gasped in pleasure.

She thought back to Michael fucking her this morning. The memory of the act did not ruin her mood. While a part of her will always be ashamed of the fact that she had been fucked by a married man, she couldn't deny having enjoyed the act itself. His strong arms had held her down like a helpless puppet. His hips had hammered him into her like he had been possessed and his hard cock had felt so fucking good inside of her. In her aroused state of mind, Amy admitted to herself that Michael was the second best fuck of her life.

She plunged a finger into her tunnel and decided to have another orgasm, right then and there. The memory of the tall dark stranger and Michael's savage act were enough to make her cum all by themselves, her hands were just the cherry on top of her many stimuli. Her hips began bucking as she approached what was promising to be the strongest self inflicted orgasm of her life. She gasped and squealed aloud as she felt the familiar tightness develop in her chest.

She froze in surprise as her doorbell rang. She lay on her couch and gulped big breaths of air as she thought to herself, "Who could it be at this time of day?" She couldn't decide if she wanted to continue masturbating or open the door. She looked down at her body and realized she needed to make herself presentable if she opened the door.

Amy pulled her fingers out of her crotch and gave them a whiff. A forceful knock came on her door, making her startle. "Miss Benson," a gruff, male voice called from outside her door, "this is the police! Open up, please!"

Amy's jaw dropped in shock. A cop was actually banging on her door, probably intent on dragging her off to the police station and interrogating her like she was a pervert, or prostitute, and she was lying on her couch, jilling herself off. She could smell her own juices and realized the cop would probably be able to do so too, if she let him in. She cursed softly to herself and decided to pretend she wasn't in, until he went away. She rose up in her seat and checked her front door. She could plainly see that the deadbolt and chain were in place. The cop wasn't getting in without busting down the door.

The cop knocked on her door again. "Miss Benson, I know you're in there," he called to her, "your car is parked out front!"

Amy winced and her face scrunched up in worry. How the fuck could she salvage this situation? She debated with herself whether to get up, make herself as presentable as she could and face the music, or continue to sit still and pretend she had walked somewhere. It wasn't unheard of for her to leave her car at home and have to walk to places. All of her neighbors could testify to that.

Her neighbors! Amy's heart raced anew as she realized half the neighborhood could probably hear the cop banging and calling out her name. She lay back down and put her hand on her forehead in dismay. What the hell was she going to say to people when they came round and asked her why a cop was banging on her door on a Saturday morning?

She groaned as the cop banged on her door again. He rang her doorbell and called out her name. Amy stuck her hands over her ears to drown out the noise the cop was making. The thongs around her upper arms and the many amulets she had worn as bracelets fell on her face and breasts, reminding her that she was wearing a very slutty witch costume, sans panties. That was definitely no kind of attire to open a door in. Particularly not for a cop.

Amy shook her head as the cop knocked on her door and said, "A complaint has been filed against you, Miss Benson! We need to talk about it!"

Panic threatened to overwhelm Amy's mind. If the cop started yelling what the complaint was, she was as good as ruined. She had no idea what to do to get him to shut up and go away. She barked out a soft, bitter laugh and said to herself, "Abraca-fucking-dabra, I magically make this whole business with the police go away."

The door to her apartment suddenly opened wide and admitted a portly, middle aged man in a police uniform. Amy sat up in shock. She swung her legs off her couch and smoothed down her skirt. She looked at her thong on the coffee table, for a second, before the cop stepped into view. To Amy's paralyzing shock, he unzipped his pants and began to rummage around in there. Her jaw fell as he pulled out his hard, short and thick member.

He knelt before her and put his hands under her thighs to lift and spread them. Amy could only look up into his eyes in mute shock. They were vacant, even as he thrust into her wet pussy. Amy sat on the edge of her couch and endured the vigorous fucking. The cop's face showed no hint of an expression as he hammered away at her pussy. Despite the fact that her front door was left wide open for the world to hear, she could not stop herself from vocalizing the mounting pleasure. She didn't want to cum in her current situation, but the jilling from a minute ago had left her so close to the peak that any resistance was futile. Soon, she shut her eyes and screamed out her climax, even as the cop kept drilling her with his hard meat.

Right after she finished, he slammed all the way into her and spilled his seed. Amy's brow bunched up as she noted his face was still blank, even as he was climaxing. He pulled out, put his softening meat away, zipped up and stood to leave. Amy remained in her position, her legs lewdly spread on the edge of the couch, until he closed the door behind himself and left.

She put her knees together and sat up. She craned her neck and gasped when she saw her door had the deadbolt and chain in place. She blinked in surprise and set aside her disturbing ravishment of mere seconds ago to stand and walk to the door. She bent over at the waist and peered closely at the locked portal. She tried the knob repeatedly, only to find that the door was not budging, not even for a fraction of an inch. She worked the deadbolt and removed the chain. The door opened when she tried the knob. She closed it again and locked and chained it.

Amy could not comprehend how in the world the cop opened her door in an instant and then locked it behind himself, just as easily. It baffled her even more than the fact that he had walked in, fucked her with a completely blank expression on his face and then left, forgetting all about the complaint that had brought him there in the first place.

She stood there gaping in utter bewilderment until she felt his hot seed slowly seep from her overly sensitive pussy. Her confusion gave way to humiliation. She teared up and ran to the bathroom. She turned on the water in the shower and stripped out of her brief outfit. She was tearing the amulets and knick-knacks off herself when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, her make up smeared and her eyes looked haunted.

She stepped into the shower. The warm water washed over her as she sat on the cold, ceramic floor, curled up with her chin on her knees. She couldn't decide if the day's events had been horrific or terrific. She had always had fantasies of dominant men taking her without awaiting her consent or heeding her feeble protests. Her lovers of the past twelve hours had fulfilled those fantasies. The man from last night took his pleasure from her, without paying any mind to her own. Paradoxically, this callous treatment had pushed all of her buttons and blown her mind in ecstasy.

She had also dreamed often of being bent over and wordlessly taken by a forceful man. Michael did that to her this morning and she had enjoyed it thoroughly at the time, despite the fact that Michael is married. But that memory wasn't pleasant anymore. Not since she had seen the blank face of the cop that had just ravished her in her own home. The vacant eyes and blank face were the stuff of nightmares. In her fantasies, the men had always been eager and consumed with lust that her very presence inspired in them. They were the exact opposite of the cop. Amy shuddered as she imagined Michael having the same expression on his face while he had fucked her that morning.

She shut her eyes and put her head directly in the spray of water, hoping it would wash away the queasy feeling that was welling up inside. Before today, she could never have even imagined anyone being so lifeless during the act of making love. Now, she was haunted by the memory of the vacant look in the man's eyes.

Once the bad feelings punched through the remains of the lusty haze that had been enveloping her brain, she began to think of the consequences of the cop's actions. Should she report him? How would she explain the fact that he had gained entry into her apartment? Would any jury see her side when the cop testified he entered and saw her on the couch, her dripping wet pussy on display, sans panties? Amy sighed as she realized that any kind of report she filed against the cop would likely backfire spectacularly.

The thought of what would happen if she didn't try to report him made the blood chill in her veins. The cop was obviously deranged. There was no other explanation that could account for his behavior during sex. What if he came back and brought with him a bunch of his buddies? They'd seize her and ravish her between them. While the old Amy would go to bed nude and touch herself fantasizing of such a scenario, the new Amy was sure she'd have nightmares of being fucked by a gang of expressionless men in uniform. She shook her head, as if to clear it.

The more Amy looked back on her day, the less sense it made to her, even discounting the fact that every man she had come across had forcibly taken her. First her car started while her key was in her pocket and worked fine. She had to put the key in the ignition to turn the thing off when she got home. Then her bolted and chained door suddenly opened wide to allow the cop to come in. The door locked and chained itself right after he had exited.

Amy swept her damp hair out of her eyes and shook her head to herself. She decided she was remembering things wrong. There was no way in hell that cars start on their own, without keys in the ignition and plain, wooden doors do not lock and unlock themselves either. She must have hallucinated those things. Amy nodded to herself and sighed bitterly. The only logical conclusion was that she was coming down with schizophrenia or some similar disease.

She sat in her shower and let the water wash away her tears.

Amy's phone rang and snapped her out of her funk. Her ears were full of water so she reached over and turned the faucet off. She shook the water out of her ears just in time to hear the machine pick up. Amy heard her sister in law say, "Amy, it's Heather." Heather's voice faltered for a moment. "We're in the hospital... It's Zach, he's..." Heather's desperate tone of voice told Amy that her nephew Zach's cancer was back again and that it was serious this time. It crushed her heart at the same time. "The doctor is saying the treatment hasn't worked as well as expected and..." Amy heard Heather draw a shaky breath and clear her throat. She continued in a suppressed tone of voice. "Your brother already called and left a message, I don't know why you haven't come yet, or why you aren't answering your cell, but... Please, come! Zach would want to see his auntie, too. Before..."

Amy heard Heather's sob before she hung up the phone. Shattered by the worst possible news, Amy slammed her heel against the side of her tub and let out a bloodcurdling scream of frustration and denial. She kicked and punched at the unyielding ceramic until she exhausted herself. She lay down in the tub and cried.

After her desperation had run its course, Amy heaved a few deep breaths to get herself under control. Her family was suffering and she needed to pick herself up and go to them and do what she could to help them, even if it turned out to be exactly nothing. Daintily, she stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry. She took an aspirin to help combat the dull throbbing in her extremities and thoroughly blew out her nose. After that, she dressed in everyday clothes and applied a little bit of makeup to hide the strain of the day so far.

Looking at her answering machine with its blinking light, she now knew she had ignored the message from her brother and felt bad about it. She shook it off. It's not like they were going to submit her to questioning regarding her absence. She put on her coat and left the apartment, locking her door behind herself.

Her P.O.S. car started on the first try and purred as it ate up the miles to the hospital. She found a spot on her first tour of the hospital's parking lot and made her way to the oncology ward. Her brother Jay saw her coming and got up from his seat. He looked like shit. His eyes were swollen, red and haunted. He opened his mouth to say something. Amy stepped in close and hugged him. He hugged her back and they stood still and silent for a minute. Then he began to cry. Amy squeezed her big brother as tight as she could while he sobbed miserably.

After he had let it all out, they sat down in the waiting room. Zach was in the recovery ward and they couldn't go in and see him until he was moved back to the oncology ward. Heather joined them and they sat together and stared at the floor in silence. Jay got up and went to the bathroom at one point. Heather scooted over closer to Amy.

"So," Heather said, "Julia says you were at her party last night and that you were naughty." Amy tensed up. If Julia had spilled the beans about her neighbors calling the cops on her, she was going to go to her house tomorrow and rip that loose tongue from her mouth with her bare hands. "Who was he?"