A Simple Parlor Trick First Take
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A Simple Parlor Trick, Second Take free porn video
It was a delightful little party at my best friend Hugh's house, with
about a dozen of us present all told. His parents were out of the city,
and with their gracious permission we were granted access to Mr.
Blackbourne's stupendous collection of liquor. The drinks offered pleasing
warmth on a harsh winter afternoon.
It was still light out and we were hesitant to imbibe too much so early,
so we'd gathered some chairs in a circle and were swapping stories. Hugh
was detailing his adventures in France, where he'd recently traveled with
Edward, my other best friend. Eileen had asked if any foreign ladies
caught his eye. I strongly suspected she had her own eyes on him.
"Of course not! Any girl after my heart needs to compete with Richard, and
that's not happening. Though I suppose she might be able to match Edward.
That would be the easier task," he said, laughing. I laughed along while
Edward scoffed. "I jest, I jest. Both are the best friends a man could ask
for. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else."
It was true. Hugh, Edward and I had been inseparable since boarding
school, and any potential future spouses had some very high standards to
meet. Even if Edward and I were involved in a bit of a spat at the time, I
knew it wouldn't be a permanent rift.
Light in complexion and dark of hair, Edward looked the very model of an
upper class gentleman. Not as well-built as Hugh, but there was a lanky,
smooth charm about him that's irresistible, at least when he can control
his temper. When he gets emotional he will swing from cheerful to angry to
sullen at the slightest provocation, and his fiery personality stands in
contrast with my quiet, conflict-avoidant demeanor. It's probably a major
reason why we've never seen completely eye-to-eye.
Another, I suppose, is how the man can hold a grudge like no one else.
Granted, he's equally quick to drop it once his ego is satisfied, but
getting to that point can be infuriating. Edward's latest indignation was
over my absence in France, which he lorded over me like some grand
betrayal. I don't know if he thought I'd stayed home to simply to spit on
the idea of us three having a grand adventure or he was just feeling nasty
of late, but Edward had grown cooler than ever in recent weeks.
Hugh, for his part, just wished we'd settle our differences. He always was
a better man than either of us, the glue that held our group together, but
he needed patience. Edward was a stubborn hothead, and I'm not all that
charismatic, so it would take more than a few words to make amends. We'd
always been somewhat at odds, always had our ups and downs, and I was
certain this low point would pass, too.
Thomas, another acquaintance, roused me from my thoughts. "Oi, enough
about Richard's sorry love life. I hear he knows way more fun stuff." He
looked directly at me, and I could tell by glassy eyed stare he'd already
had too much to drink. "They say you learned some magic spell or something
when you were out in the Orient. Why don't you tell us about that?"
I sighed. I'd learned it while in Austria-Hungary, not the Orient, and it
was a trick, not magic. But it was mysterious sounding and weird and I'd
shown it off at a couple parties, so it had only been a matter of time
before word of my "magic spell" had spread.
"I'd really rather not, not right now. It's an odd thing, honestly, and
I'm not sure it fits what should be a merry occasion," I said. That just
earned eager looks and words of encouragement. I suppose mystery was more
interesting than merriment. Vexed, I took a breath before continuing.
"Alright, alright. Thomas, you brought it up, so you get the curtains.
Shut them tight, it needs to be dark for the, eh, spell, to work."
Nervous murmurs rose as the curtains were closed, snuffing most of the
light. I could make out the excited grins on Hugh and Edward at the
opposite side of the circle, eager to see how this performance would go,
but the overall climate had already taken a turn for the somber. When
Thomas sat back down I leaned forward and began setting the stage, my face
barely visible in the gloom.
"The man who taught me this claimed to be a sorcerer. When I met him he
was maintaining a dusty old book shop in Prague. Rare stuff, claimed to
even have some forbidden tomes, though I never found anything out of the
ordinary," I said to my rapt audience. "I was a regular customer, and
eventually befriended him. He claimed knowledge of this ceremony, a spell
that predates known history, to be his most valuable possession. He wanted
to pass it on, powerful and dangerous as it is, to ensure this small but
remarkable bit of human achievement is never lost."
"Magic isn't like in the stories. It doesn't take deals with the devil or
a lifetime of study. Anyone can learn it, even though it holds the power
to rearrange reality itself. This particular ritual transmutes a single
person in body and soul. The core of who they are remains, but they
otherwise become someone new, someone they will always have been, someone
they always will be."
"Easily learned or not, magic isn't meant for mortal souls. The stories
have that part right. My teacher claimed to have spent decades perfecting
his craft, learning invisible sigils and precise ceremonies to direct the
currents of the arcane. Unlike him, I do not claim to be a sorcerer. While
I can perform this ritual, I cannot control who will be affected. I lack
the proper focus, as he would say."
That was the official tale. In reality the "ritual" was a ridiculous
little thing, nothing more than a storytelling technique. A rather
effective one, to be fair, and the experience could be rather unnerving,
but all that nonsense about changing people was poppycock. However,
explaining the supposed effects in grave detail was as important as the
spell itself. Magic is mostly about helping people fool themselves,
because when all is said and done the whole concept is a simple parlor
trick, nothing more.
That said, the background was true. The shopkeeper did claim to be a
sorcerer, and taught the ritual in hopes of me becoming his apprentice. He
was disappointed when I returned home, but urged me to show it off anyway.
This was likely because he knew this supposed spell was completely benign,
and not even a self-proclaimed wizard like him could make it work. The one
time I saw him perform it he frightened his pretty volunteer half to
death, but she remained otherwise unchanged. For his part the sorcerer put
on a sly smile, claimed our narrow perspectives were overlooking something
obvious, and refused to explain further. He was an expert showman, if
nothing else.
After several seconds of silence, Thomas spoke up. "No offense, mate, but
that's a heap of rubbish," he said. Eileen prodded him, but he continued,
undeterred. "Thought you'd conjure fire or call up a demon. An old wizard
that transforms people and runs a shop? Sounds like something a street
performer would make up."
"Well, if you're looking for a lark, there's how it always seems to get at
least one person upset," I said. It was certainly why Hugh and Edward were
so excited. "It's usually a woman, too, however you'd like to take that."
"Well, the fairer sex can be prone to irrational responses," Edward said,
before thinking better of it. "Er, no offense to current company."
"Stunning insight, Edward," I said, dryly. That earned me a few giggles.
"How about we start now and see who ends up frightened? You've experienced
this before, but that doesn't make you brave."
Edward looked me in the eye, wearing a defiant yet oh so punchable smirk.
Staring right back, I began speaking in a calm monotone.
"It starts with a touch. Not cold or clammy, not quite uncomfortable, but
not soothing. Feel its dryness, feel it follow the contours of your flesh,
beneath your clothes. Do not fret. It is simply your connection to reality
being plucked, tested, tasted. You have not been chosen yet, even if
interest is being shown."
Edward snickered, but everyone else seemed to be absentmindedly picking at
themselves, as if checking they were still there. I also felt what might
have been the hands, but I kept still. I could hardly frighten him if I
were acting nervous myself.
"It continues, but do not fight it. What has begun cannot be stopped. Do
not jump if you feel a prick or bite. You are not lost. The severing has
begun, the separation of your physical self from the fabric of the
universe, but you are not yet cut off completely. Many will be lifted, but
only one will be removed."
Edward's attempts to keep up his fa?ade were starting to fail. Immediately
after he rolled his eyes as he swallowed nervously, and risked nervous
glances at those around him when he thought no one was looking. To be
fair, Hugh also looked uncomfortable, as did Thomas. I continued
pretending I couldn't feel jabbing against my sides, continued to focus on
Edward even as I watched the others out of the corner of my eye.
"Soon, soon you will know your fates. The unchanged will still feel the
hands, feel their oppressive grip, but the needles will be gone. You will
remain anchored to this world. Those who will be changed, they will feel
something different. They will feel a sudden jolt, dull but powerful,
possessed of an air of finality. They are being torn free from causality,
their soul prepared to be reborn anew."
Edward's lips moved, no doubt trying to make some sarcastic quip, but no
sound came out. That seemed to finally break him. His eyes went wide and
he started shaking, and he looked more like he was trying to shout than
mock. Hugh had managed to get himself under control and was looking at
Edward with concern while Thomas rocked back and forth, rubbing his arms.
My own heart was caught in my throat, but I swallowed it and continued.
"You will know if you have been chosen. Flames will eat at you, neither
hot nor cold, not painful but nevertheless consuming, leaving void in
their wake. They will erase your physical being, leaving only your
essence. What you are will cease, but who you are will continue. You are
being baptized for your new life, freed from the cage of what was."
Edward's head shook violently and briefly before cocking to the side as he
sat perfectly still, a terrified look frozen on his face. It was strange,
seeing Edward so plainly frightened, his eyes huge and his lips quivering
delicately. Hugh took one hand in his and started patting it, while Thomas
leaned down and stayed there. There was immense satisfaction at causing
such panic with a few well-placed words, enough to overpower concern for
my friend.
"The changing cannot move. Do not try. Even now you are not lost. You are
merely being remade, the skeins of destiny being rewound and rewoven. You
feel a dull itch building inside. It begins in your throat, like gossamer
wings lightly fluttering against your neck as they try to escape. But
nothing is leaving. That sensation is the changing's new form, a fresh
shell of flesh and memory being formed around their self."
In the poor light Edward's fear seemed to have an almost feminine
demeanor, enough that it triggered an urge to protect him. But even if I
truly wanted, I could not. The ceremony beckoned, words that would not go
unspoken. Besides, comforting him was Hugh's place, not mine. I was
starting to get a bit worried, with Edward's head still tilted and
unmoving, but he was in good hands. I couldn't remember much about
previous attempts at this trick, but I would certainly remember if someone
ever ended up hurting themselves over such a silly thing. Besides, even
Thomas seemed to have recovered, sitting back up and shaking his head.
"The hands will soothe the changing as the fire burns and the wings beat
around their form. Nothing makes sense, you cannot comprehend who you are.
Do not fear. You are yourself. Soon you will know who that is. The
fluttering builds around your whole body, perfecting what shall be. The
changed can feel the breeze of the flapping, quelling the flames where it
passes. It brings peace. It lets you know who you are."
In my heart, I felt triumph mixed with remorse. I had won, but for some
reason victory was unappetizing. Something would never be the same,
something I couldn't quite place. It wasn't good or bad, but important
enough to make me wonder if this was right. Yet part of me knew this was
for the best, that I should just keep going. I wasn't sure what to make of
it all. Such a strange combination of emotions to be aroused by this
little game.
"It is nearing its end. Soon the light will return. Soon all will make
sense. The wings take flight. The flames are embers. The hands return the
changed to the world, their life anew, their place in reality rebuilt.
Take heart, changed and unchanged. Take heart, mortals. All are whole
again."
Hugh looked over at me, begging me to stop with his eyes. But I couldn't,
not yet. I wasn't sure when the ceremony was supposed to end, or even if
there even was an end. Perhaps when Edward told me he'd had enough. I'd
proven that he was no more fearless than the other women, and I just
needed him to admit it. I wondered how much longer
"Can you stop now? I don't approve of this. It's not right, enacting pagan
rituals in a good Christian household, even in jest."
Through the darkness I could see Beatrice sweating and shuddering as she
spoke, her curly black hair standing out against skin that had gone white
as porcelain. Hugh held one of her hands in his, and had a comforting arm
around her back as he gently pulled his lover to his shoulder, letting her
rest her head. That was good enough for me, and I stopped. Felt a bit
guilty, too, so I got up to pull back the curtains and let in some light.
Shaken or no, Beatrice didn't hide her anger as I stood, her eyes glaring
from their perch.
We three had been close friends once, what seems like a lifetime ago.
Granted, Beatrice always had her sights set on Hugh, and seemed to regard
me as something like competition, but once they grew from companions to
something more intimate she took her jealousy to the extreme. As if she
hadn't already secured his affections, or I had ever been trying to thwart
her. I usually managed to remain civil, but when the damnable woman drew
my attention it was always an attempt to get a rise out of me.
Things had come to a head after the couple's recent trip to France. I
suspected Beatrice thought Hugh would propose there, but it didn't happen.
I knew she blamed his alleged hesitance on me, even if she wouldn't say it
outright. It was patently ridiculous, and she knew they had my blessing,
but that didn't stop her from growing even icier. This wasn't the first
irrational grudge she'd held against me, but the driving force behind it
was so absurd I wasn't sure how to defuse the idea.
"I think you should reconsider before performing that vile trick again,"
Beatrice said as I shifted the heavy curtains. I held back a comment about
how she hadn't objected before being made a fool. "I'm a gracious hostess,
and you're a dear friend, but some people would not be so accepting of
such unpleasantness in their household."
My work complete, I turned around and smiled warmly in the sunlight, a
mockery only she recognized. We both knew I'd won. Beatrice would never
openly admit it, but her body language made it obvious. Even as she sat
back up and gently pushed Hugh aside her dark eyes were big as saucers,
she was nervously smacking her plump lips, and her elegant fingers
retained a death grip on her boyfriend's offered hand. She wasn't
insulted, she was terrified out of her mind. I'm not proud, but I felt
more than a bit of satisfaction. With what Beatrice had been putting me
through it was nice to antagonize her in return.
"Oh, no need to be so dramatic, love," Hugh said. Beatrice looked over at
him, but I was at the wrong angle to gauge her reaction. "I for one
appreciated the show, Richard. Nothing like it to get a pretty girl in
your arms, especially when that beauty is your fianc?."
"What are you on about, Hugh?" Beatrice asked. The other guests started
murmuring while my friend grinned and dug around in his pocket, basking in
the pregnant pause. I hurried to my chair, fairly certain Hugh wanted
everyone in place before continuing with the obvious. As expected, he
cleared his throat and fished out a little black box as I sat.
"I was saving this for some place or time more romantic, but then I
realized where better than surrounded by friends? Besides, seeing you like
this reminds me how much I love you, and how much I want to always be
there for you," Hugh said. He opened the box, revealing the diamond ring
inside. "Beatrice Abney, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
In a few words, all my hard work was undone. Beatrice practically shouted
in joy as she accepted the ring, then tearfully hugged and kissed her new
fianc?, fears forgotten. I was a bit disappointed, but I joined the other
guests in a round of encouragement. I'd had my fun, and at the end of the
day Beatrice was still a friend. Perhaps Hugh's belated show of devotion
would finally resolve her paranoia.
By the end of the party it had. If anything, her engagement helped soothe
our relationship beyond what I'd thought possible. Beatrice's jealousy of
me was mollified, and without that rivalry she once again became as close
a friend as Hugh. In fact, during the coming months I came to appreciate
her quite a bit more than ever. Amazing how magnanimous someone can be
when they're not feeling threatened by your presence, however
irrationally.
I was best man at the wedding, a beautiful, well-attended affair held on a
warm spring afternoon. I was sure the slight pit that formed in my stomach
during the ceremony was just sympathetic nervousness. Certainly not
jealousy at watching my two beautiful friends commit to spending their
lives together.
I will admit it was a bit of a shame that the sunny, open venue didn't
lend itself to my little parlor trick. There's something comforting about
that silly ritual, strange as it sounds. I'm always fascinated by who
reacts to it, and perhaps it would have offered an opportunity to console
a bridesmaid. But maybe it's not a good idea to rely on gimmicks. I'm
happy my friends found love so easily and naturally, but I think I may
need to work a little harder.
Jeannie
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