Chapter 10 #2
The first something in days.
And it happened the second I visualized looking down at Callie’s incredible cleavage.
My mind raced back to what Callie had said, her words dripping with vindictive satisfaction: “I’m the one and only woman on this planet that you can still get it up for.”
I had assumed her physical presence was required. But… could it actually work only from thinking of her?
My phone was still plugged into the charger by the bed. I cracked the bathroom door open, relief flooding through me when I saw Scarlett had her back turned, scrolling through her own phone. I darted out, grabbed mine, and retreated back to the bathroom.
With trembling hands, I navigated to Callie’s social media. My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, momentarily stalled by how pathetic and insane this was.
But it was also my only idea.
I scrolled down to last summer. There it was: Callie in her most revealing bikini, the one from our trip to Cabo.
She was standing in the surf laughing, the sun giving golden highlights to her hair.
The wet bikini clung to her, and her skin glowed bronze and perfect.
I remembered the way she’d felt in my arms, hot from the sun, and the taste of salt on her lips when I’d kissed her.
The response was immediate and undeniable. Heat flooded through me, and my dick finally roared back to life. I was, at last, incredibly, gloriously hard.
Holy shit. It worked.
The relief was almost overwhelming, mixed with a twisted sense of triumph.
A half-hysterical laugh escaped from my throat.
I’d figured it out! I’d found the loophole!
Yes, I might have to keep my wife’s bikini pics in one hand while I pleasured a prostitute with the other, but… it was something to build on at least.
Working out the kinks was for later. Right now, I was just grateful to be functional again.
I swung the bathroom door open and proudly advanced into the room.
Scarlett looked up from her phone, sliding that practiced “seductive smile” back on—until her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the size of my cock at full mast. “Well, damn,” she breathed, genuine appreciation in her voice.
A surge of pride smothered the debasement of these last days. “Why don’t you put that mouth to work?” I suggested.
“I’ll do my best,” she said gamely, rolling her shoulders like an athlete preparing for a challenge. She settled herself between my legs, looking up at me with enthusiasm.
But the minute I focused on Scarlett’s nude body kneeling at my feet… I felt my dick begin to soften.
Fortunately, I still had my phone gripped tightly in my hand, angled carefully so Scarlett couldn’t see the screen. The minute I put my eyes back on the outline of Callie’s perky nipples poking through the bikini, all was solid again.
I had to avoid thinking about how pathetic this was. Just focus on Callie’s incredible body while Scarlett got me off. Think only of Callie and ignore the fact that the sensations were coming from another woman. I could do this. I just had to get off. I just had to get off.
Scarlett leaned in toward my cock, her lips parting. I felt the whisper of her breath on the head, and just as her lips were about to make contact with the tip—
In the blink of an eye, my erection was gone. Completely. At a speed that was utterly inhuman. I gasped at the forceful alien sensation of my dick switching from fully hard to shriveled and soft in a millisecond.
It was like a balloon popped by a needle.
Scarlett’s momentum carried her forward. She’d been expecting resistance, something hard entering her mouth, but instead found only empty air. She sailed forward, her face bouncing off my deflated junk. “What the—” she sputtered.
It took everything in me not to scream, and I had to look away from her. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing how she must be looking at me right now.
But I felt her judgment as she lifted my shaft gingerly with one hand. “What is this, one of those prosthetic penises they use in movies? Is this thing even real?”
“Yes it’s real!” I snarled. My face was burning hotter than the surface of the sun.
She jumped to her feet. “But that was physically impossible. Like, actually impossible. Nobody’s dick goes from that to nothing in a second. That’s not how dicks work.”
I had to end this. “Let me just pay you,” I choked out. Earlier tonight, paying for sex seemed the lowest I could go. But this paying-for-no-sex was even worse.
Scarlett was pulling her clothes back on, but she was also looking up anxiously into the corners of the room. “You’ve been weird from the minute you approached me. What is this, some kind of prank video? Are there hidden cameras here?”
I hastily pulled all the money from my wallet, six times the rate we had negotiated, and pushed it toward her. “No, I promise, that’s not it.”
She was ignoring me and yelling into random corners of the room, all the spaces where she suspected cameras were hiding. “I do not consent to have my image used in some dumb bro’s prank videos! If you put me online, I’ll sue you into oblivion!”
“Please just go,” I pleaded miserably. “I promise this is not a prank.”
She snatched the cash from me and counted it quickly. Her rage vanished as she registered just how much I was overpaying her.
“For your discretion,” I said, still unable to meet her gaze.
“Relax, honey. I don’t kiss and tell.” She paused. “Or whatever that was.”
And then the worst thing happened: she looked at me with undisguised pity.
Women like her were supposed to look at me with awe and lust and hunger. Pity was the last thing I ever wanted to see in a woman’s eyes. “Well, if this isn’t a joke, you need to get to a doctor. That disappearing dick situation is not normal. Good luck!”
And then she was gone, leaving me alone with my humiliation.
The scream that tore from my throat was primal.
I wanted to trash the room, but I knew that was stupid.
I grabbed the nearest pillow and punched it, once, twice, over and over until my knuckles ached.
Then I went for the mattress itself, pounding my fists into it with all the impotent rage coursing through me.
Impotent. The word rang in my head like a death knell.
I collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving, hands throbbing. Even my rage was powerless now. My anger accomplished nothing. I was nothing but a child throwing a tantrum.
Callie had thought of everything with this curse. Her magic had anticipated my attempted workaround. Even if I got turned on from thoughts and pictures of her, the curse ensured that the moment another woman came close to sexual contact with me, everything would instantly shut down.
Callie had always been thorough. Great with all the little details. I guess this all tracked.
I stared at the ceiling, my breathing gradually slowing as the dread of what came next settled over me.
Scarlett was right. There was one last-ditch idea to try: going to the doctor.
I was going to have to walk into a sterile office with fluorescent lighting and plastic chairs.
I was going to have to sit across from someone in a white coat and explain that my equipment didn’t work anymore.
I’d have to say those words out loud, to a professional, while they took notes and tried not to laugh.
They’d want details. Would I have to tell them all about what I’d been through this week? Every shattering and shameful detail?
And the exam. There would probably be an exam. They’d want to look, to touch, to verify the problem for themselves. The thought of lying there while some urologist poked and prodded at my dysfunctional junk, snickering through clinical observations about my emasculation…
I pulled the pillow over my face and screamed into it.