“Eyes Wide Shut”
by Elvyra Venus

The moon was full, the trick-or-treaters finally home in bed, and a few teens lingered on the streets throwing eggs and keying cars. I centered the bowl full of grave dirt, murderer cremains, and my blood on the gravesite and lit the white candle pressed into the muck. Though I’d purchased the $2 candle at the craft store, I had spent hours carving sigils and circles into it, the physical manifestation of my will for this spell to work.

Shivering in the cool autumn air, I shimmied out of my coat, leaving me barefoot in a white slip hugging tight to my curves and knelt facing the headstone. Holding my hands palm up to the sky, cupping the moonlight as it cascaded through the graveyard trees, I intoned the summoning spell.

It was a short verse, one that I had memorized ages ago, and it wasn’t long after the sibilant echoes of my voice had faded that I heard a voice from behind me.

“Hey, girl. We got to stop meeting like this.”

I closed my eyes, breathing deep, aching to smell the lavender and sage that had wreathed my girlfriend in life. It had faded decades ago, but the perfume of fresh-turned dirt she now wore was almost as comforting.

My response was always the same: “Yeah, well, ‘fraid I got myself cursed again.”

Her arms wound around me from behind, but I knew better than to look back at her. The moment I did, she’d be gone, the candle extinguished. Instead, I hugged her arms to me, snug against my breast, and snuggled into the crook of her elbow.

I could hear the laughter in her voice when she replied, remembering the smile that quirked the corners of her mouth when she was trying not to giggle. “You are the clumsiest damn witch I know.”

“Well, you see, there was a damsel in distress,” I started.

“Mmhm, sure there was. Was she pretty?”

The feeling of her breath in my hair was distracting, but I knew what she wanted to hear. “Not as pretty as you, but a red head.”

A soft snort brushed past my ear as she nuzzled it. “Ah, your weakness. Go on.”

I leaned my head against her shoulder, creating the scene as I went. “She was being threatened by an ogre of a warlock.”

She laughed, and I bounced gently on her shoulder. “Those beastly warlocks, always causing problems for respectable witches.”

“When he cast the curse at her, I didn’t even think, just leapt between the two of them, and wham! Cursed. Again.” I sighed and wiggled against her to get more comfortable.

“I’m sure you took it like a champ.” She gently kissed my shoulders, up my neck, leaving a slight dampness that caused me to shiver despite the warmth of her arms. “And what does this curse do?”

“Makes the IRS audit me every year,” I lied.

Her gasp was gratifyingly over-dramatic, causing her chest to press into my back. “How horrible! He must have been truly dastardly.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back into her arms, letting her support my weight, if only for a moment. “There’s only one known cure.”

She whispered against my neck: “True love’s kiss?”

I turned, awkwardly—always so difficult from this angle—and pulled her head to mine, soft lips, sweet breath, eyes closed fast. I never asked if she had to close hers, too, but figured she probably did anyway. They were always closed when we kissed, before—well, before.

She didn’t need to break for air anymore, but I still did and I pulled slightly away, gasping, the taste of dried and fallen leaves seasoning the impression of her lips on mine.

Her voice was quieter, breathless, which was a trick for someone without functioning lungs. “There, that should break it. How do you feel?”

I couldn’t stop the tear that escaped my closed eyes, and I tried to discreetly wipe it away against her arm. “I…I just—”

“Shh.” She touched my mouth with her fingertips. “None of that. How long does the candle burn?”

“I tested three of them. They last several hours.”

She leaned down to me once more, her lips grazing mine. “Just enough time to ensure the curse is well and truly broken.”

“It’s so hard to tell sometimes if a curse breaks.” My breath caught as she trailed kisses down my neck, grazing the top edge of my slip where it bunched between my breasts. I turned, offering full access to my body, laying with one arm draped over my eyes to remind myself not to peek.

“I know a sure-fire way,” she murmured into my cleavage and then her hands were working their way under the hem of my slip, the cool silk slipping easily up my thighs.

I sighed in anticipation. “Fire is right—” and gasped as her thumb skimmed across my vulva, leaving a tingling path in its wake. And then her hands retreated.

“Wait, where are you–is the candle still lit?” I risked a peek from under my arm at the ritual candle, but it was still burning cheerily, casting a warm glow on the graveyard around us. Hastily, I closed my eyes again and then reached out to where I’d last felt her.

“I’m right here.” She guided my hands to her breasts, heavy and smooth, her nipples already puckering in the cold night. I grinned into the dark and tweaked her left nipple gently, eliciting a giggle. I slid my hands up into the curly chaos of her hair and guided her back to my mouth to drink deeply of her before I let her go back to her ministrations.

It was but the work of a few moments before she found herself back at the bottom hem of my slip, pushing it up and out of the way to trail kisses up the inside of my thigh.

“You know, are you sure you want me to break this curse? I mean, it could be useful—” Her laugh was cut off as I thrust my hips forward and up to meet her mouth, her tongue dancing the familiar delicate dance across labia and clit. Her fingers teased along the edges of my vagina, waiting until I was dripping wet and gasping with anticipation before slipping inside to caress the walnut of my G-spot.

She increased the pressure and friction slowly but surely, surging forward and backing off in waves, pushing me closer and closer to a climax without letting me tumble off that edge until I thought I would go crazy, panting and writhing against her hands and mouth, until finally, finally, she let me crest the wave of pleasure and desire, tumbling down the other side of sensation, shudders wracking my body. And again. And again.

When she had wrung the last vestige of pleasure from my body, she crawled up my body to settle against me, her damp fingers curling in my hair, her leg wedged between mine. Kissing her tasted of fresh dirt and body salt, her lips oh so slightly swollen with effort and desire.

“Well, I think I felt the curse leaving your body,” she murmured.

“I was certainly moved, that’s for damn sure.” I exhaled long and slow, willing my heart rate back into the normal range. “But you’re right, I feel much better. Thank you.” I pressed my lips into her hair, pretending that the damp on my face was just perspiration.

“Always.”

We stayed like that for a moment, the cool October air whisking away my sweat, before I opened my eyes and the scent of extinguished candles drifted in the dark above me.

–

Elvyra Venus is an eldritch activist and proponent of healthy love between consenting creatures. She spends her time doing “research” for her writing via cryptid dating apps and enjoying this century’s vast array of consumable media. To learn more about her blossoming erotica career, please visit http://elvyravenus.com/