Recognizing Morgaine’s voice, but unable to hear any response, Chad deduced that she was on the phone—and possibly on the phone-sex line! He could always hope that some kind ofrealforeplay might be in progress, but he pushed his way through the wooden door to find out. He always felt as if he needed to spit sawdust after going through doors. It was better than plaster, though.
“Oh, yeah… Do you like that, baby? Hmmm… I’m really turned on right now.”
Sure enough, Morgaine was using her money maker—her super sexy phone voice.
Suddenly the other phone rang.
The witches had two dedicated lines each, and he assumed each had their own clients. But the best thing about their living together was their ability to cover for each other—callers neverhad to hang up disappointed when they needed to get their rocks off.
“No, baby. I don’t have to go,” Morgaine said breathily. “I have tocome.”
Gwyneth rushed in and picked up the ringing telephone.
Morgaine added some heavy panting, and then…“Oooh, Ahhh, Ohhhhhhhhh. AAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAH!”
She panted a few times, then said, “That was fantastic! You’resoincredible. Did I satisfy you too, baby? Yeah? Good.” After a brief giggle, she said, “Of course. Call any time. We’re always here for you, baby.”
As soon as she hung up, she returned to the kitchen where something brewed on a slow simmer. It looked like another batch of her protection potion. Chad had seen her make it before. She kept the black liquid at just below a boil.
He remembered when it bubbled over and made a mess of the white appliances and tile floor. Morgaine declared the batch ruined and threw it out.
Sometimes they slaved over the hot stove for twenty minutes or more as they stirred their spells into all kinds of horrible soupy looking things. Of course, sometimes they were simply making soup. Chad could only tell if they tasted the stuff.
He switched his attention to Gwyneth as she began talking dirty in her sexy Southern drawl.
“I love that Gwyneth still has a heavy Southern accent. Those dropped r’s and slow drawl are music to my Northern ears.”It was hard to believe they were cousins—even though Chad was pretty sure they’d moved from down south somewhere. Chad loved it when Gwyneth used the endearment, “Dahlin’” to her better clients. That slow drawl plus the sexy voice could makehimcome. As it was, he tried to avoid the frustration. Ghosts not having a body and all…
It amazed him how the cousins could turn it on and off at a moment’s notice. Of course, it was acting! That’s why they called themselves phone-sex actresses and could win academy awards. Certainly, their performances rivaled Meg Ryan’s.Heh heh. I’ll have what she’s having.
Chad knew they had an owl familiar and wondered where it was. Athena was a real owl—kept like a beloved pet. They believed she contained the spirit of some kind of reincarnated ancestor or spiritual guardian. Chad thought it was just a dumb bird.
Her perch was in the bathroom, so if she spilled her food or had an accident, they wouldn’t lose another area rug. She didn’t fly much, but sometimes got turned on by all the noises and began flapping her wings and hooting.
“Oh, gawd, dahlin’… Oh, that feels so good… Oh yeah, dahlin’. Are y’all close? Now? Awww…Shee-it! AAAAAaaa, AAAAAaaa, AAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Hoo… Hoo…
“Yup, these two are a gas to watch,”Chad grinned.
“This is delicious, Merry.” Jason hadn’t had a meal this good in a long time. Sure, he could grill a steak and microwave a potato, but this… this was ambrosia.
“You make a mean salad, too,” she said.
Jason chuckled and scooped another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. He chewed with his eyes closed to savor the mix of tomatoes, meat, and cheeses. His taste buds zinged.
Wow, a beauty who can cook too.Not like the spoiled debutantes who had been forced on him—speaking of which…
“Merry, there’s a charity bachelor auction the PR people roped me into. I really don’t want to be auctioned off like a pieceof meat, so I was thinking, maybe if I give you the money to ‘buy’ me… Would you be willing to get dressed up and pose as a rich, spoiled brat?”
Merry almost choked on her salad. Then she started to laugh. When she cleared her throat and composed herself, she asked, “When is it?”
“The Friday after next.”
“You’re in luck. I work every other weekend, but I have Fridays and Mondays off when I work that Saturday and Sunday.”
“Is that a yes?”
She shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
