As I’ve mentioned in the past, I was originally going to publish a short-story collection featuring, among other things, the sequel to “As Hard As You Can”, which I instead posted on my blog on New Year’s Day. There are other stories from that collection that, for whatever reason, wouldn’t work in Holiday Heat, so I decided to make them free to read. Here is one such story, which takes place prior to the events of Dreaming of How it Was Going to Be. If you read the prologue of that book, you’ll know that a magic user named Graham cast a spell to change the world to save his best friend, whose wife had died, from crippling depression. You’ll also know that, in that world, spanking increases magic ability. This is important information as you read the following story, “The Magic Touch”. Enjoy!

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The Magic Touch, Part 1

Karen took off her wide-brimmed straw hat and mopped sweat off her brow with a small rag. It was a brutally-hot Saturday morning in Missouri, and Karen didn’t know enough weather magic to generate even the smallest breeze. She knew it was her own damn fault for planting this deeply into the summer — but then, it had been a difficult spring, what with the discovery of several powerful artifacts that needed her attention.

She sighed, replaced her hat, and bent over her flowerbed again. Only a few more plants to go.

“Hey, Karen?” Joe was working on the other side of the front door; the sound of his hedge trimmers made satisfying little snipping sounds as he shaped their decorative bushes into something a little less wild.

Except he hadn’t snipped anything in several seconds. Odd, because he was usually so decisive when it came to gardening.

“What is it, hon?”

“Has…” He paused; she looked over to him, blinking sweat out of her eyes, and saw him facing out toward the street. “Has your phone gone off lately?”

Karen touched her pocket.

It was empty.

“Damn.” She sat back on her haunches and then slowly got to her feet — she was almost fifty, and her joints weren’t as friendly as they used to be. “I forgot it. Why?”

Instead of saying anything, Joe pointed outward with his trimmers.

Karen turned around, saw what Joe was pointing at, and froze.

But, luckily, her paralysis only lasted a couple of seconds. “Get in the house! Quickly!”

Jeff followed her in and threw both deadbolts before going to the windows and drawing the heavy shades across them. “Karen,” he called as she ran for the kitchen, for her phone, “were those… zombies?”

Karen returned to the living room, scrolling through her messages.

“Well?”

She nodded. “Some idiot used necromancy and it got out of control. They’re being reported all over the city.”

“What about your friends in the coven?” He pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and balled it up. “Here, give me yours.”

Karen dropped her hat on the table and stripped off her shirt and bra. The air conditioning made her feel clammy and slick, but there was no time for a shower. “They say they’ll try to get another magic user out here. But it’s a vacation week, and we’re low on resources. Graham wants to know if we can handle our house.”

“Can we?” Joe went into the kitchen, and she followed. He dumped the wet shirts in the laundry room sink while Karen drew the blinds behind the kitchen table. “Handle it, I mean?”

“I don’t know.” She heard him digging through the dryer; when he returned, he tossed her an Indigo Girls t-shirt, which she quickly pulled on and tugged into place. Joe had shrugged on a 70s-era button-down he used when they were painting. Karen slipped past Joe, into the laundry room, and checked to make sure the door was locked. It didn’t have a deadbolt, only a knob with a little button lock and one of those security bar things. Neither of which would likely be enough to stop zombies; nothing short of steel plate would probably do.

In the kitchen again, Joe handed her a glass of ice water. “Drink.”

“Joe–“

He shook his head. “Drink first. Magic after.”

“Joe, I can’t fight zombies!”

“So tell Graham that.”

“But… but I should be able to. I’m a witch!”

“Yes, you are.” He took her hand, then pulled her into his arms. Despite how hot they both were, she took a long moment to rest her cheek against his chest and listen to his heartbeat; she loved how tall he was, how he could make her feel small and protected. “Karen, we need to make a decision: fight, or call for help. You’re the witch. I defer to you.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, refusing to let go. “Don’t make me out to be some sort of hero.”

He found her chin, tilted her head up. She saw the absolute trust in his dark eyes. “Whatever you decide, that’s what we’ll do. But trust me: you’re stronger than you know.  You just have to let yourself be strong.”

And that, she supposed, was the ultimate question: was she ready to be strong?

—

After another long moment, Karen nodded. Then she pulled away and pressed her phone into Joe’s hand. “Tell Graham we’ll defend ourselves.”

“Where are you going?”

“Basement,” she said. “I need implements.”

—

While Karen had been downstairs, Joe had armed himself with their handgun — a small revolver, not really enough stopping power for anything that wasn’t human, but it seemed to make him feel better — and a very large machete Karen didn’t even know they’d had in the house.

Karen peeked around the edge of the curtains, still holding onto the implements she’d retrieved. “The zombies… they’re coming.” Her heart was in her throat.

Joe nodded, just once. “Whatever you’re going to do,” he said, “I think it’s time to do it.”

Karen took a deep breath and kicked off her sandals. She undid her shorts and pushed them down, followed by her panties. If she’d known this was going to happen, she’d have worn nicer ones, but when you’re going to spend the day outside in the garden you generally don’t think about what kind of underwear you’re wearing.

Then she bent over the arm of the sofa. “The first thing we need is some power.”

Joe moved close to her. “I still can’t believe this is what it takes.”

“Believe it. It works.”

“Oh, I know it works. I’ve seen it.” He caressed her wide, curvy bottom and she couldn’t help but shiver with anticipation. In bed, Joe’s touch could bring her to the heights of pleasure, and his hand was close enough to something else to get her heart racing.

Then he smacked her bare backside, not hard, but firmly, enough to give her a little jolt.

Another smack.

And another.

“Keep going,” she told him. “I feel the power already starting to build.”

He sighed. Karen knew he only did this because she needed him to; he wasn’t into it, and honestly neither was she — the two of them were pretty vanilla when it came to sex. But she was a witch, and he was her husband, and he had always supported her.

Joe settled into a steady rhythm, spanking Karen’s ass over and over, the warmth growing in her backside as well as other places. His left hand was on her lower back; he’d pushed the t-shirt up some so he could have contact with her skin. He’d done research when Lily had discovered the magic-amplifying power of spanking, and although it didn’t turn him on like it did some of the other witches and wizards, he had made sure he was proficient at it.

And he was proficient. Before too long Karen’s entire bottom felt like it was glowing, and the power was flowing into her mind. She closed her eyes, shutting out the regular, even impacts of her husband’s hand on her ass, and opened herself to her abilities. For years, she’d been a middling witch at best, able to influence the forces of nature in small, subtle ways, but nothing truly groundbreaking. The affinity she’d always felt toward plants had led to her degree in botany, and before joining the coven she’d run a moderately-successful plant nursery as well as a local CSA. It was Lily, Graham, and the others who’d redirected her botanical research skills into ancient runes and artifacts.

But to save herself and her husband, she was going to have to go back to her roots.

Karen extended herself through her connection to the earth and touched the roots of the bushes on either side of her front door. She pushed the power — her own power, plus the additional power from the spanking — into them, urging them to grow thicker and tangle together in front of the door.

Joe paused his spanking and she heard the curtains rustle. “Holy cow,” he said. “I can barely see through the bushes now.”

Karen smiled, but she didn’t respond. She already knew they were growing, and once she’d started the magic, it had been only natural to extend it to the climbing vines along their trellises. Plants didn’t see, per se, but she managed to translate the signals well enough that she knew what she was facing.

Joe put his warm hand on her warmer backside. “Do you need more?”

She swallowed hard. “I think I will.”

—

Karen “watched” from her trellises as the first of the zombies broke through the decorative waist-high wrought-iron fence she and Joe had put up last fall. The one in the lead shambled his way into her front yard.

“I need weapons,” she said. “What did we leave out front?”

“My clippers. Whatever you were using. A shovel, I think.”

“It’ll do.” She steeled herself. “Keep going.”

Joe began spanking Karen again, harder this time. They had a pattern they used — first firm, then hard, then with implements if necessary. It didn’t just feel warm anymore; each impact of his hand on her skin hurt. A lot. He was a big, strong man, and they’d discussed this extensively; when she needed to be spanked to boost her magic, he couldn’t hold back, even though he didn’t want to hurt her. And, to be honest, she didn’t want him to hurt her. But if this was what it took, then this was what she’d do.

Through the trellises, Karen watched as her magic lifted the shovel off the ground. She started spinning it like a helicopter’s blade, faster and faster, and brought it close to the zombies. It wasn’t a very sharp shovel, but at those speeds, it didn’t matter; the shovel bit into the zombies’ necks and decapitated them, and without their brains — or their heads; she didn’t know exactly how zombies worked — they collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

But there were a lot of them, and Karen’s backside was on fire from Joe’s heavy, hard spanks. She knew her skin was red by now, but she also knew that the more pain there was from the spanking the more power she’d be able to channel into her magic.

The shovel continued to spin, to behead the zombies, and she added in the hedge clippers, which snipped and snapped through necks. Zombie heads flew in all different directions, and Karen forced herself not to react to the spanking, and then, without warning, she cried out.

—

“I’m all right,” Karen said, her voice hoarse and dry. “I’m all right.”

Joe had gently pulled Karen to her feet and was hugging her again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing her shoulders. “I hate that we have to do that.”

“It’s okay.” She had her arms around him and was holding him tight, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her backside. “I promise it’s okay.”

“What about the zombies?”

Karen concentrated. “I got most of them, but there are a few trapped in the bushes.” She fed what was left of her power from the spanking — it always dissipated so quickly — into the bushes, and the branches wrapped around the zombies’ necks and constricted, their heads popping off and the zombies going limp. “I don’t think we’ll need the implements.”

She felt him relax. “Good.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She just didn’t want to make him worry. Something told her they’d be necessary before the day was out.

“I need to sit down,” she said. “Can you get me something to drink?”

“Of course.”

Karen eased herself onto the couch, the soft fabric reactivating the pain in her ass, and leaned her head back. She let her eyes close; she’d used a lot of power, and a little nap would help her recharge.

Just a little one.

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To be continued next week!