She froze. She was still holding him, naked; every part of her went rigid. It seemed he had really done it this time. He should have held his temper. How were they ever going to get along now?
She stepped back. "Negation. You have taught me a lessen. I will try to reform. You are a genuinely nice man perhaps unfairly treated. Request: may we start over?"
He wished he could erase the entire sequence. He should simply have accepted her as she presented herself. She was locked into this, just as he was. Once the month was done, he would be free to return to Flame, vindicated. The problem was their association in that month, poisoned by his intemperate outburst. "Wish."
Then he was standing clothed outside her door. She had used her magic on him, to simulate a new beginning.
He sighed inwardly and knocked.
The door opened. Weft stood there, wearing a modest yellow dress, slippers, and a yellow ribbon tying back her long fair hair. "Fifth," she said. "Welcome."
"Appreciation."
"Come in. I expected you."
What could he do? He stepped in.
"Supposition," she said. "That competitive sisters could make a deal to see whether one could take something of value from the other. Such as a mortal boyfriend. That one got too caught up in it and tried to vamp him at the outset, just to prove he could be led around by his penis. That she forgot he was a person in his own right whose feelings deserved respect. That she is mortified and wishes she could erase the whole scene. Is it possible that he would give her another chance?"
This was a side of her he had not appreciated before. "Possible," he agreed guardedly.
"Appreciation. We have work to do, but first I would like to get to know you. Have a seat. Refreshment?"
He spread his hands as he sat on a chair. "Your preference."
She went to her kitchenette and in a moment returned with two tall glasses of purple liquid. "Grape juice, unfermented." She gave him one.
He sipped, half expecting something potent, but it was innocent. "Appreciation."
She sat opposite him. Nothing showed. "Flame fears that it is her Glamor status that attracts you. She is trying to nullify that by exposing you to other Glamors. Is this effective?"
"Affirmation! All of you are like stars, and I am like a dull planet. I could orbit any of you. But I love Flame."
"What does she have that we do not?"
"A lovely lean body."
"Therefore you cling to her?"
"I admit my masculine shallowness. I am turned on by her form. I always liked lean women."
"And if I looked like this, I would appeal similarly to you?" Her body became a mirror of Flame's, with her dress shrinking to fit. It was illusion, of course, but effective.
"Sexually," he agreed uncomfortably. "Not necessarily in other respects."
"So there is something else about Flame."
"She truly cares about me."
"Candor," she said. "I have been with many men. Some are turned on by my Glamor status. All are turned on by my physical appearance. I can take any I choose, within minutes. I wish I could find one who is turned on by me. Who would be as loyal to me as you are to Flame. I do envy her that."
This was candor indeed. She was confessing a private desire. "Appreciation."
"We must engage in a no fault sexual relationship, this month. I must try to win you, and you must try to win me.
But apart from that, I hope we can respect each other. As we are." Her form returned to its original buxom. "I proffer this compromise: we must do it a certain number of times, but I will leave the choosing and manner of them to you. I will neither demand from you nor tempt you. Either by physical exposure or by planting desire in your mind. It has to be your true preference. But I will never deny you. If on the last day it has not happened, then we will have to bite the bullet and do it ten times in succession. In that event I will facilitate your potency. Fair?"
"Fair," he agreed, amazed. Could she really be turning control of the sexual side of their association over completely to him? Only Flame had done that.
"Details," she said. "Do you prefer to sleep together or apart? When there is need to wash or change clothing, may we see each other or avoid it?"
He considered. "In a normal no fault relationship, couples do sleep together, and wash together. While I prefer lean, full female flesh does also turn me on when I am near it. If I sleep next to you, I will want to clasp you. If I see you wash, I will react, just as I did during that other start. I am a garden variety mortal male, chronically stimulated by female flesh. Do you prefer that I suppress such reactions?"
"Negation. If you see me wash, and desire sex, and I oblige it, that's one time, isn't it? If you wake in the night and desire me, and I accept, that's another time. This would make the sex relatively painless. We might fulfill the tally without ever having to force it."
He laughed. "Then let's be together and open with each other. In fact—" He broke off, embarrassed.
"Conjecture," she said. "My courtesy turns you on more than my prior exposure did."
"Agreement. You seem more like a person than a blatant sex symbol."
"But you must ask. That's the new rule."
He licked his lips. "Asked."
Her clothing disappeared. So did his. They rose from their seats and went to the bedroom. He fell on the bed with her, kissing her madly as her full breasts flattened against his chest and her firm legs wrapped around his. In another moment he was entering her and thrusting, climaxing immediately.
"Welcome," she said, smiling as he ebbed and withdrew.
He laughed again. "Accuracy. That was painless."
She got up and went to the bathroom. She got a cloth and washed her breasts and bottom.
He joined her. The sight and proximity of her full body still affected him despite his recent climax.
"In fact—"
She smiled. She hoisted herself up to sit on the sink, and spread her legs. He stepped in, his member rising.
But it was not quite enough, so soon, and he realized that he wouldn't climax. His hardware could not keep pace with his desire.
She knew it too. "Facilitation?"
"Appreciation."
His member swelled and hardened with renewed force, and he thrust and spurted into her. The intensity of it was equal to the first time. This time he felt her responding, internally, and realized that she had not done so before. So she had had reason to facilitate his second effort. But she had played fair, not asking for it. He had turned himself on, seeing her wash her flesh.
"Welcome," he said as her vagina relaxed. Then they both laughed.
"Suspicion," she said, as she got down from the sink. "The problem we anticipated does not exist."
"Agreement! Irony, that all it took to turn me on was your effort not to."
"I think you are not like other men in that respect."
"Uncertainty. Men prefer to make the decision, though it can be facilitated by the women. So a covert peek into cleavage can mean more than a full view of the breasts."
"Interest." She took the cloth and washed him off. Her touch was delicate an pleasurable.
Then he took the cloth and washed her off. And started reacting again. "Impossible," he said ruefully.
"Possible," she said.
"I mean, without enhancement."
"Curiosity."
"Ditto." Suddenly it was vital to know whether he could actually do it again so soon.
"Novelty," she suggested. "May I?"
"Endorsement."
She took his penis and stroked it. She tickled his scrotum. There was some response. She put her face to it and licked the tip. There was more response.