All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2017 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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I don’t usually pay any attention to the fortune tellers at the street fair that is set up each Sunday along the sidewalks near my apartment. I know they are all fakes. I haves heard their spiel so many times I can almost always predict their next line. “I see trouble followed by joy in your future,” is one of my favorites. They kind of annoy me, always calling out to everyone promising to tell them the darkest secrets of their past and future. The only thing for sure about them is that everything they tell you is a lie. But this one was different. She was sitting absolutely silently at her small table as the crowd passed by staring into her fake crystal ball.

I was still half a block away when she raised her head and looked directly at me. She continued to stare at me as I approached and then, just before I passed her table, she pointed one scraggly finger at me while at the same time, holding up a small object in her other hand.

I stopped, and she nodded her head. She pointed to what I could now see was a small black book in her hand and then back at me. She gave a crooked smile and again nodded her head.

“OK,” I said almost sarcastically as I stood in front of her, “I’ll bite. What is so special about that book.”

She held the book down in both her hands so that she could riff through the pages. “As you can see, it’s empty,” she said in a raspy voice. “But it is full of magic. If you write a woman’s name in this book, she will fall madly in love with you. She will do anything you ask because she loves you so completely.”

She laughed. It was a hoarse, huffing laugh that was almost a cackle. “And when you are tired of her,” she said as she closed the book, “all you need to do is write in the next name and it will all be over.”

I laughed. “That’s a good one,” I said. “I suppose you want ONLY a hundred dollars for it.”

“No,” she said, “it is yours if you want it.”

She turned the book so I could see the cover and my eyes widened. My name– my full name– was on the front of the book in golden type. She held the book out to me, but I stepped back slightly.

“Please,” she said, “take it. There is no charge. It is intended for you.”

I hesitantly reached out and took the book from her hand. I ran my fingers across my name embossed on the front cover. When I looked back up, she was gone. I don’t mean she stepped away from her table, she was GONE. In fact, I was standing in front of a big concrete planter filled with bright purple and yellow flowers.

“Weird!” I said to myself as I tucked the book into my pocket. But when I got home, I started thinking about whose name I might write in the book. I considered the redhead who lived across the hall, but she had a brother– a huge brother who was also a cop. Maybe the blonde with the big boobs who worked at the deli? Naw, she made the ditzes in the blond jokes look intellectual.
I know! Marti Ferme, the stuck up head administrative assistant at work. She treats all men like dirt, but somehow seems to go through one boyfriend after another. It would be cruel payback to have her groveling at my feet. I could see in my mind all of the depraved things I would have her doing for me. I’d tried to get back at her with a lot of petty things to screw up her work over the past few months, hoping to make her look a little bad… or hopefully even bad enough to get her fired. But everything I had done paled in comparison to this. I would put her in her place at last. I carefully wrote her name on the first page of the book and set it with my wallet on my dresser. This was going to be fantastic.

***

The next day at work, I looked up from my desk to see Marti standing there with her arms crossed and a very stern look on her face. “You were supposed to prepare work projections for your department’s office admin assistant needs for the next six months,” she said angrily. “I was supposed to have them by noon Friday. Where are they?!”

“I filed those last week!” I answered, trying not to yell. I then punched up the proper directory on my terminal and spun it around to show her the file– exactly where it was supposed to be. Of course, I didn’t tell her that I had created a batch file to run Sunday morning before the system backup that moved the file from a hidden directory to where it was supposed to be.

“Oh,” she said, looking like she was in shock. “I don’t understand how I could have overlooked it.” She gave me a very weak smile. “I don’t normally make such stupid mistakes. Sorry.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, moving quickly to take advantage of the situation, “why don’t you have dinner with me tonight and we can talk. I think we both may have been making mistakes about each other.”

I know. It was a dumb line. But if it worked, then I was pretty sure that the little black book was actually working its magic and dinner would be just the beginning of the evening.

She smiled down at me and said, “I don’t normally date men from the office, but we can consider this to be just a working meal. I’ll make reservations at La Badda’s for eight. Pick me up at seven thirty.”

“Yes!” I said to myself as I watched her walk away from my desk. I hadn’t realized how sexy her walk was from behind before, but as she glided away, I couldn’t take my eyes off her undulating ass cheeks.

I had trouble keeping my mind on my work for the rest of the day. Marti’s face kept drifting into my thoughts. All I could think of was that if my little black book continued to work its magic, tonight would be unbelievable. Finally, five o’clock came around and I hurried home from work to shower and change clothes. I put several packets of condoms in the inside pocket of my jacket. That wasn’t for if I got lucky, it was in case the black book wasn’t as powerful as I hoped and she wouldn’t go bareback.

I started to put the black book in my jacket pocket, but decided to leave it on my dresser. It would be awkward if she accidentally discovered it. Besides, the fortune teller didn’t say I had to carry it around with me. Only that I had to write a woman’s name in it. I opened it and read her name– Marti Ferme– before setting it with my loose change and other things I wouldn’t need tonight.

La Badda’s was more than a little above my budget, but it was well worth it to put my plan into action. Marti’s apartment was downtown and normally parking would be prohibitively expensive, but she called in the middle of the afternoon and gave me the security code for the gate and told me where to park. “I don’t have a car, anyway,” she said, “so my spot is always empty. Besides, we can walk to La Badda’s from my place.”

By the time we left the restaurant, my credit card was almost maxed out. I couldn’t even pronounce what Marti ordered to eat, and I nearly died when the waiter suggested a bottle of wine that cost over three hundred dollars.

“Is that a problem?” Marti asked as she looked over at me. I tried to sound calm, but I know I stuttered as I said, “N… n… no.”

When the food came, her plate was practically empty. Why is it that the more expensive a dish, the smaller the portion? After we ate, she insisted on an aperitif. I didn’t even know what that was, but evidently it is a very sweet, very expensive drink that is served in a thimble glass. Somehow she managed to make that tiny glass last for almost a half hour as she smiled and waved at almost everyone in the restaurant.

When the bill came, and I got the slip back, she said, “Remember to make the tip twenty-five percent. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my friends.”

“OK,” I mumbled as I noted how close to maximum my bill would be for the month.

***

When we got back to her apartment, Marti seemed to be in a very good mood. She invited me in and said that perhaps I would want some desert. I wasn’t sure what she meant until she came back out of the kitchen wearing a very short, almost transparent, black negligee. There was a pair of very tiny black bottoms clearly visible through the wispy cloth. Also visible was a set of the most gorgeous breasts I had even seen.

“Let’s go into my bedroom,” she said softly and turned to walk down the hall. When we got to the doorway, she turned and said, “Leave your clothing in the hallway.”

I don’t know why I did it, but I immediately slipped out of everything and dropped it on the floor. OK, yes, I know why I did it. I wanted to keep her in a good mood. I wanted to please her so I could get under that flimsy barrier and touch those unbelievable tits.

As I stepped into the room, she slipped the gown off her gorgeous body and carefully draped it over a chair. “Let’s start with a back massage, shall we?” she said in a soft voice.

“Hell no!” I thought. “Let’s start with a blow job!” But what I said was, “If that’s what you want.”

This wasn’t going as planned. Her face, her smile, her exquisite body were overwhelming me. For some reason I could think of nothing but pleasing her. I was thinking like a love-struck teenager. I almost slapped my own face to snap me out of it, but before I could her voice interrupted my thoughts.

“There’s a bottle of lotion on bedstand,” she said sweetly. When I looked up, she was lying face down on the bed. My raging hardon was yelling for me to jump on and go to town, but somehow all I did was pick up the lotion and crawl up onto the bed alongside her.

“Start with my shoulders, honey,” she said. It was still soft, but somehow it sounded more like an order.

I should have yanked down those tiny black panties and buried myself in whichever orifice little Pete line up with, but instead I answered, “Whatever you say.”

Her flesh felt so wonderful. And her sighs of contentment made me feel… in love. I gradually worked my way down her back itching to slide my hands beneath that tiny barrier to her marvelous ass globes. But when my fingers began to slip under the elastic waistband, she murmured, “Leave that for later, love, and move on down to my legs.”

I did. In fact, I spent most of the next hour slowly massaging her thighs… and calves… and each incredibly beautiful toe on her perfectly shaped feet. I had never felt like this before. All I wanted to do was to make her happy and each sigh and moan of contentment made me feel like something warm and wonderful was being poured into the core of my being.

After I had finished with all ten toes, I started moving back up her legs. But once again when I reach the edge of the black panties, she said, “Later,” and turned over onto her back.

She wiggled her toes at me and I knew that I was supposed to start back at the bottom. I massaged her feet– this time from the front– and then began to work my way slowly up her body. I didn’t even bother to try slipping my fingers under the black panties, but instead moved on to gently rubbing circles on her abdomen before moving on to those glorious breasts.

I really wanted to maul those mammaries, but her instructions, soft but very firm, were, “Gently, gently. And keep away from the nipples… for now.”

I had finally returned to her shoulders when she said with a smile, “It’s time to remove my panties.”

I needed no further encouragement and quickly slid them down as she arched her body slightly on the bed. The sudden sight of her neatly trimmed bush caused me to almost gasp. “My pleasure first,” she said, but she really didn’t have to. All I wanted to do was to give my love pleasure.

“Just your mouth,” she said firmly. “And begin with my nipples.”

“Of course, sweetie,” I replied as I leaned forward to take one of her now turgid nipples into my mouth. I suckled and lapped and swirled my tongue around each nipple. Her aureola seemed to be very sensitive to my ministrations, so I spent additional time circling my tongue to the very edges of that slightly darker circle of skin.

It wasn’t until she was undulating on the bed that I began nuzzling and licking my way south. As I passed over her clit, which was peeking out from beneath its shield, she gave a deep groan and said, “Yes.”

I moved so that I was now between her legs which she lifted and put on my back. I don’t know for sure if I buried myself in her luscious, sweet smelling tangle or she pulled me down, but soon I was firmly against her crotch, running my tongue up and down her slit and swirling it around her clit much as I had been doing for her nipples a few minutes earlier.

I kept trying to push my tongue into her now flowing cunt, but each time I did, she would say, “Slowly, slowly,” and I would pull back out. Her body was now almost bucking on the bed. I kept lapping and suckling and she began a shrill keening wail that foretold an impending orgasm.

Her legs pulled me even tighter against her pussy and her hands now forced my head so tightly against her that I could barely breath as she arched and thrashed on the bed. After her wild movements calmed, she said softly, “That’s one. You can join me for number three.”

“What!?” I yelled in my mind, but I said nothing. Instead, my hands moved up to fondle her breasts as my tongue once again began to make slow, gentle circles around her clit.

It didn’t take her long to return to the undulating stage, but it seemed like forever before she got to the keening and thrashing which signaled her orgasm. Afterwards, as she calmed back down, she said, “That’s two. I’ll let you know when you can join me for number three.”

“Whatever you want, love,” I breathed out. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was screaming at myself, “Whatever you want? Are you nuts? Throw her legs up over her head and fuck her senseless.” I said nothing aloud, however, and returned to my lapping.

When she was once again almost thrashing, the pressure of her legs against my back was suddenly gone. “Now,” she said loudly, and I immediately moved forward into the normal position. My prick pressed against her outer lips and I thrust forward to enter her. This was the moment I had been working toward and waiting for all day.

It was, in truth, only a moment. Marti slammed herself against me as she shrieked and thrashed in orgasm and I went off almost immediately. She pulled me tight on top of her and said, “Hold me.”

I lay there clinging tightly to her wondering how it was that I had ended up acting like a teenaged virgin in love. Then I saw the picture on the wall over her dresser. It was the fortune teller from the street fair.

“Who… who is that?” I stammered out as I raised myself slightly and moved over so I was alongside her.

“Oh, her,” she laughed. “That’s my bunica. That’s the Romanian word for grandmother. She watches out over me.”

“You’re … …. Romanian?” I asked, looking back and forth from the hag in the picture frame to the luscious body on the bed next to me.

“Yes,” she said as she sat up on the bed. “My full name is Marti Fermecatoare. I shortened it because most Americans can’t pronounce it and no one can spell it.” She laughed slightly and added, “… that and the fact that fermecatoare is the Romanian word for witch.

“You’re a witch?” I asked in a slightly trembling voice.

“No, silly,” she answered. “But I think grandma was. She used to go down to the street fairs and make a little extra money as a fortune teller. But she was a real joker. She had the gift, but she always reversed things. Whatever she told you was the exact opposite of what would happen.”

“So,” I said. My voice was still trembling a little. “If she told you that a woman was going to fall madly in love with you, what would actually happen is that you would fall madly in love with that woman.”

“Yes,” she answered with a smile, “something like that. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I answered. I looked over at her. I had the greatest urge to take her in my arms and cuddle her until she fell fast asleep, but somehow I found the strength to say, “It’s getting late and we both have to work tomorrow. I think I should be going.”

She remained silent as I walked back into the hallway and gathered up my clothes. As I slipped my jacket back on she said flatly, “The book is also a talisman. It has your name on it. If you destroy it, you are destroying yourself. If it burns, you burn.”

I ran from her apartment. I don’t remember driving home, but as soon as I got there I ran into my bedroom and grabbed the little black book. For some reason, it now seemed hot in my hands. I’m sitting at my kitchen table trying to make two very important decisions. Where can I keep this book so that it will always be safe. And what woman’s name can I write in to replace Marti. I really want a woman who is pretty and likes me, but right now I am mainly searching for someone that I can afford.

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END OF STORY
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