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When Samhain rolled around, though, I was a little lonely for home. Non-witches just don’t celebrate Halloween the same way that witches do. Because of this, when I saw a call out for the pagan club on campus I was stoked! I don’t know exactly what I expected, but when I showed up for my first meeting I was more than a little shocked.
Their meeting space was on the first floor of the president’s dorm. All the black being worn by the members when I walked through the door took me aback. I’m a witch. I have maybe two black tee-shirts and they have print on them. These people did not strike me as witches on any level. I even paid attention for anyone drawing magic and there wasn’t much to be seen. It was looking like a fail for sure. I was already through the door, though, so I sat down quietly in the corner.
All around me people were having pissing contests about who’d read the most or been to the most rituals or who had the coolest ritual items. I was feeling more and more like leaving was a good idea. Sitting there with the bulge of my biceps testing the elasticity of the sleeves of my teal polo made blending in difficult. I looked like I was a frat wannabe taking part of some forced humiliation as part of rush week. The only problem was that it wasn’t rush week and I wasn’t going Greek.
Just as I was about to stand and depart the president walked in. He was, to turn a phrase, incredibly fuckable. He wasn’t built like me. He wasn’t thick the way I was. He looked to have that taught body of a swimmer. I was looking at his face but my mind was constructing a life-like replica of him to be used when I got back to my apartment. I was spending extra effort on his waist. You could tell that he had those great lines just on the outside of his lower abs. The kind made for licking. He wasn’t wearing as much black as the others in the group but what he was wearing made an impression. A thick black, leather bracelets on each wrist told me plenty. His clothes actually fit, unlike the outfits of most in the group. He had a mop of dark curls and piercing blue eyes.
As he’d walked in I’d been just standing up. I didn’t realize that I’d stopped moving in mid-motion while I stared at him. I was half out of the chair when he smirked and asked, “Leaving already or just sitting down? I can’t tell.”
I stammered over my response. I could have cleared that room with a wave of my hand. I could have bench pressed his body. I could have conjured up a dozen roses behind my back and handed them to him. Instead, I stammered. I couldn’t talk. I was speechless in the face of his beauty. I finally spit out, “Sitting.”
That was when I knew I’d found a challenge. College life had turned up a lot of sex. It was incredible, really, what some big arms, a flat stomach and a legendary cock will do for a guy’s sex life. I used the magic to make my body and all of its accoutrement. I used none of it to get a guy into my bed. The rule of 3X3 doesn’t exactly apply to beings like me but it still applies on some level. Bewitching someone into your bed is never a good idea. At a small, liberal arts college, however, all you needed was a body like mine. This guy, though, seemed anything but impressed. We’d see about that.
Needless to say, I stayed at the meeting with the sexy leader. It seemed that there was nothing to talk about besides the big party being held for All Hallow’s Eve. There would be a ritual during the party, it seemed, in a separate part of the building they were to use. The group was encouraged to not drink or otherwise alter their minds lest it interfere with the magic of the evening. While there did seem to be a spark of magic around the president, I was doubtful there’d be any actual magic done by this group of pretenders. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“I’m Calvus. How’d you like your first meeting?” was how he started it.
I’d prepared myself for this through the entire meeting. I had my game face back. “It was pretty good as far as meetings go.”
“Yeah. I feel you there. I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t pitch it.”
A grin. That was all he gave me on that one. I had been waiting to use that line for a seeming eternity. He was killing me. A grin was all it took. Red-faced I told him, “Glistern.”
“Last name? What’s your first?”
“I go by Glistern. First name’s a family name and it’s not one I give out readily. You’ll have to work for that one.”
“We’ll see. Calvus is my craft name, I guess I should tell you. Michael is what you’ll hear anyone not in the club calling me.” He’d introduced himself with his craft name. I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or as a sign that he had no business with a craft name. With a smile like his, though, I opted to give the benefit of the doubt.
“Right on. I’m thinking about coming to this party and ritual that you guys are doing for Samhain. Anything I should bring? Anything I should know as a first timer?”
“Just yourself. Come in costume, though. That’s almost the best part. We have a theme every year. This year everyone is supposed to dress like a favorite character from Mythology.”
“Greek, Roman, what?”
“Good question. Most people just giggle and say okay. You decide, though. I’d imagine most people will go with Greek since it’s what they know.”
“I’m set, then.”
“Yeah? What you going to wear, or do I have to work for that too?”
“You do now. See you at the party.” And with that I’d grabbed the proverbial joystick and sunk his battleship. I wasn’t very good with the metaphors at 18. What can I say?