Chapter 14

BAREFACED TWAT

Mimosa lowered the phone. There was a smile on her face. She had heard the entire conversation between Leo and her brother. As soon as the phone rang Mimosa leaped out of bed, ran to the kitchen and stealthily lifted the extension phone from its cradle.

Leo's voice surprised her. Mimosa had expected Andrea to call, offering some explanation of the night she had spent away from home. That would be fun to listen to, but this call from Leo was equally illuminating. Leo was in the hospital.

Mimosa rushed back to her room. Her books for school were ready and packed away with her homework in a briefcase. That was no problem. She just had to decide on what clothes to wear. That was important, particularly if she decided to visit Leo in the hospital.

Panties. Should they be brief bikinis or the sexy lace shorts? Mimosa gave this a moment's thought and then laughed. It was silly to even waste her time considering underpants at all. She would wear none.

If she got any chance to screw Leo at all it would have to be fast-fast and furious. Neither of them would have time to undress. She'd have to lift his hospital gown. That would be easy. From what she remembered of her own experience in the hospital the time they took her appendix out, no one wore underwear under their gowns.

Mimosa was positive. No undies at all. Only her yellow mini-skirt. That was sexy. Halfway between the knee and her ass. Yellow leather especially dyed and designed for her by a faggot friend of Andrea. With that Mimosa decided to wear her lemon suede boots and a pale yellow blouse, but no bra.

"Morning, Billy!"

"Get out of my room!"

"Shall I make you breakfast, dear? I'm on my way to school. But since Big Sis didn't bother to come home last night I thought I'd take over and show a little responsibility around the house. Isn't that sweet of me?"

She stooped and picked up the "witchcraft" book from the floor where it had bounced the night before.

"I can fix my own breakfast," Billy snarled. "And what're you doing reading crap like that in the first place?"

"Since when do you consider yourself a competent literary critic?" Mimosa laughed. "This isn't for men anyhow. Do you want breakfast or not? I have to go to school!"

"I'll fix it myself," Billy shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"Certainly!"

Mimosa slammed the door. "FUCK YOU!"

In the kitchen Mimosa fixed herself a tall orange juice, two slices of rye toast, and a pot of strong coffee. She opened the book to the passage she had marked the night before. Quickly scanning it as she sipped her coffee.

The idea of the author was simple. Sex was a form of hypnotism. By releasing her full potential for an orgasm into all the everyday activities of life a woman could become a witch.

Mimosa understood this to mean that all conversations about everything must then be exclusively sexual especially with a man. Men must be flattered. Made to think that their sexual organ is dreadfully unique, individual and popular. Every man wants to believe his cock is beautiful. Simply by complimenting his penis two or three times a day a woman can gain control of a man. Spontaneity was the key.

Men were also suspicious. They only believe those compliments which seemed to occur at the spur of the moment, without any preconceived plan. The sense of improvisation was a necessary adjunct to the function of a witch.

Once a man was conquered twenty-eight days had to elapse before the practice of witchcraft could be performed. This coincided with the lunar month and the female menstrual cycle. The release of blood during the period of menstruation energizes in some peculiar fashion all of the latent potential of the female glands. Using this potential on a sexually bewitched man was witchcraft.

Mimosa whistled. It was all pretty simple, she thought, and made a lot more sense as far as she was concerned than any of the dreary subjects she was forced to study at school. Her teachers expected her to turn into a statistic instead of a woman. Mimosa laughed.

She finished breakfast and stacked the things in the sink and started for the door. She delayed a moment as she pondered the wisdom of a final exchange with Billy. No, she decided, he's probably too morose to be of much good.

Billy was a perfect example of witchcraft. Andrea had done it. She had teased and lured and tantalized him until little of his will was left as his own. It was really a major accomplishment. And Mimosa had been in the fortunate position of being both a bystander and a witness to every phase in the development.

All of this had seemed downright "mystical" until she had made her discovery about sex. The power that Andrea wielded was the power of her pussy unleashed. Mimosa giggled. The whole thing was silly.

Fuck-soon she'd have a man of her own. Mimosa assured herself of that as she hurried to catch the cross-town bus. Wolf whistles followed her down the street. They usually did, but this morning the voices were more raucous than ever.

"Hey, blondie, lemme suck your yellow twat!"

"You selling? I'm buying."

"Pussy! Pussy! Come here and lap my milk."

"Come over here, girlie, I'll give you a dollar."

"Wow!"

"Twelve inch cock, baby, you want me to stuff you?"

"Don't drop your cunt!"

That was it. The last shout reminded her she was wearing no underpants today. Her skirt flew up as she ran, waving her bare ass in the air. No wonder the men were so crude with delight. They were enjoying themselves with a free sight of her cunt. Mimosa laughed.

Let them look! All of these lovely apes. With a perfect practical example of witchcraft. What they needed was a banana and a tree.

"Mimosa!"

Rupert was waiting for her at the bus stop. He was a serious boy. In the same grade and the same age. But like most boys of thirteen he was far from having the developed sexual maturity of a girl of that same age. He was a scholar.

"My friend the intellectual," Mimosa greeted him. "How are you this morning, Rupert? Are you wearing your contact lenses? I can't tell. Your eyes look sort of myopic today."

He nodded. "I've been up most of the night. Writing a report on Structural Anthropology for that fool Miss Gitlin who's woefully ignorant of any developments in her field since early 1960!"

"Miss Gitlin!" Mimosa snorted. Suddenly she considered her reaction to be interesting. Rupert, Miss Gitlin, and me. This might make an excellent opportunity to put into practice some of the basic tenets of witchcraft.

Playing the piano requires practice. So does a witch. Rupert was perfect.

"Miss Gitlin, Miss Gitlin," Mimosa repeated. "That's all I ever hear from you Rupert, only Miss Gitlin and never a word about me!"

"But you're not interested in Structural Anthropology," Rupert remarked. "Why should I talk to you?"

"Last year," Mimosa reminded him, "when we were in the sixth grade together you proposed to me, Rupert, or have you forgotten that?"

"No," he said. "I never forget a thing. You also broke my glasses, pulled my nose and emptied a bottle of ink in my hair. I presume you were accepting my proposal. Irrational action in the female sex I have been led to assume implies love."

"Would you love me if I was a witch, Rupert?"

"Here's the bus!"

Mimosa stamped her foot. "Oh, Rupert, you're so goddamn practical. Just for once I'd like to see you overwhelmed with passion."

Rupert laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I haven't reached puberty yet!"

"Well try and hurry up!"

"Yes, Mimosa," Rupert said. "Now please get on the bus."

No seats were available.

"If you're a witch, Mimosa, please get us two seats in a hurry?"

"Fuck you!" Mimosa shouted.

An elderly woman seated nearby looked over with shock and rage. She nudged her husband, repeating what Mimosa had said. The man shrugged, far more concerned with his own problems. He retreated into the New York Times.

The elderly woman had nothing else to concern herself with. Mimosa stuck out her tongue. The woman grew more indignant by the inch, stiffening her shoulders in disgust. Quickly Mimosa flicked up her skirt-allowing the woman a brief glimpse of her bare pussy. The woman shrieked. She seized her husband by the arm and pulled him away to vacate their seats.

"See!" Mimosa chortled. "I happen to be a witch!"