Enchanted Fluids ch.3

For the first time, Harry looked at her face. Her hair was tousled by his fingers, partially covering her eyes. But from what he saw, her once dark brown eyes were now completely white. They didn't recede but appeared painted or filled.

"Tracey?" he called out.

"Tracey," she repeated her name, just as she repeated everything else since his climax, with deep warmth and respect.

He was surprised. She was truly in a different state. He brushed her hair away from her eyes, and she purred softly under his touch. Yes, her eyes were completely bleached. For some reason, this effect seemed very sensual to him.

"You love sucking cock," he stated.

Her smile widened. "I love sucking cock," she replied. "You... love sucking my cock."

Honestly, he just wanted to hear her say it, and she seemed dazed enough to repeat it without reason. He was determined now, in this moment, to embrace everything that was happening.

"I love sucking your cock," she said.

"You'll suck my cock whenever I want," he assured. "I'll suck... you..."

"You love sucking my cock," he continued.

"I love sucking your cock," she answered.

"You'll suck my cock whenever I want," he repeated.

"I'll suck your cock whenever you want," she repeated.

His heart was now racing. He didn't truly believe what she was saying. It was some strange trance, of course. Maybe it happened every time she tasted semen, he didn't know. But he didn't think she believed everything she said. It was just hot to hear her say it in her warm voice. He wanted to hear a woman say different things to a virgin, educated guy like him.

"You love me," he stated.

"I... I... I..." she struggled.

"You love me," he repeated.

"I... love..." Her expression began to show signs of pain. Apparently, there were some limits.

Well, that was for the best. When a woman finally told him she loved him, he wanted it to be in a more sober state.

He tried to think of other things—things Fleur had never told him. Things no girl had ever bluntly said to him.

"You think I'm very attractive," he stated.

The torn expression disappeared, replaced by a satisfied smile. "I think you're very attractive," she replied. "You want to fuck me."

"I want to fuck you," he confirmed.

"You desperately want to suck my cock," he said.

"I'm desperate to suck your cock," she admitted.

"You trust me completely," he said.

"I trust you completely," she confirmed.

Then he started from the beginning, his cock still slightly hard from it all. He focused on the fact that she loved sucking his cock, trusted him, and found him attractive. Hearing those words from her mouth... he couldn't explain it. He couldn't justify it. He had never heard a woman say something like that before. Now, when he could command one to do it on demand, and this woman was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen... well, he succumbed to temptation, okay? There's no real excuse. It's just an explanation.

Harry Potter caressed her slowly, observing her beautiful, delighted face as she repeated the words he conveyed to her. It was an exhilarating experience, and it didn't take long for him to be fully aroused again.

But then Tracey seemed to return from a distant, blissful place she had been in. Her face regained a normal expression and appeared slightly disoriented.

"Did I just... not give you a blowjob?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "It was amazing."

"It was amazing," she repeated almost automatically. It was almost word for word what he had said right after she satisfied him.

"Can I... I mean, are you hard again? Oh God." She looked at his erect member with desire in her eyes. "Can I suck you again, Harry? I really love sucking your cock."

The same trance-like tone. Harry didn't know what was happening, but he didn't care. This was a girl he had never even dared to fantasize about having sex with, and she was asking him for oral pleasure.

Of course, he agreed. And Tracey, like a satisfied cat, skillfully enveloped his cock again, slowly covering her mouth with a mixture of her saliva and his cum. She eagerly returned to her trance-like state, providing a deep, intense session of sucking his thick, hard member.

The next morning, Harry walked into work feeling better than he had in a long time. Something extraordinary had happened the previous night. He didn't believe he was Tracey's boyfriend or anyone else's—she made that clear—but he had a fucking buddy, and that in itself was amazing.

After she gave him a blowjob for the second time, he was too exhausted and intoxicated to notice if she returned to her trance-like state. He simply passed out, pulling her close to him on the store floor. He knew it sounded completely silly, but at that time, he considered what happened with Tracey to be a fluke. A combination of desire, alcohol, and exhaustion, culminating in some of the most exciting words he had ever heard.

They woke up at six, still sprawled on the store floor in front of the cash register. They were supposed to open the bookstore at eight, giving them enough time to rush home and make it back in time for their shift. They exchanged hurried goodbyes after a long, passionate kiss, and she made him promise to spend time with her that night.

Of course, Harry agreed. Deep down, he fantasized about his words truly affecting her, but he knew it was pure foolishness.

Five minutes past eight, he returned to the store, feeling refreshed after a shower and a change of clothes. Upon arrival, he was greeted by the delightful sight of Daphne's fantastic ass clad in tight blue jeans. She was bent over, sweeping up the cups spilled from the previous night.

His mood was pleasantly lifted by the view of her well-shaped behind, but it plummeted when he noticed the expression on her face. She knew exactly what they had done and didn't approve.

Looking around the store, it was evident why. Though the shelves had been put back in place, books were still scattered everywhere, and remnants of damage, such as dust from the fall and spilled plaster from loose screws and nails, still cluttered the floor.

"Did you have a good time last night?" she asked, clearly adopting an antagonistic tone.

He chuckled softly and looked down. They had a good time, but he couldn't tell her that.

"Oh, well. Looks like you did. Well, I'm glad my store has become your party central, but if it happens again, I'll fire you. And I don't care if I can't find anyone else. I'll work those hours myself, okay?" He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh my God." She threw her hands up. "Don't call me 'ma'am.' I'm only two months older than you." She walked toward the cash register, grabbed a trash bag, and started patrolling the store. "I understand what it's like to not have many responsibilities. All you have to do is show up. But I'm relying on you, okay? I want this to mean something to you."

She was right. He nodded. "Okay, I'm sorry. You're right."

"This place still looks like shit. You know it's unacceptable, right?"

"I know."

He also knew that when she reprimanded him, he shouldn't focus on how sensually her breasts looked in that tight, fitted blue blouse. But he couldn't help it. Her body was beautifully rounded in all the right ways.

"And why is there a new display shelf at the front? What's with the 'Staff Favorites' nonsense?"

He shrugged. "Many stores do it. I thought we could give it a try."

"And now you're making these decisions? Is that your job? Is that what you're paid for?"

"You have a lot on your plate. I thought I could help." He approached the shelf. "I can take it down in ten minutes. It won't be a problem."

"No, no." She shook her head. Her blue eyes scanned the store, searching for a glimmer of hope. "The Ice Festival is next weekend. If you mess up again and we lose all that revenue..."

"We won't lose it. I promise."

She sighed. "You can't promise you won't have an accident, Harry."

"So what do you want?"

She placed a hand on her face and shook her head. "You're right. I don't know. I'm exhausted. Just... just, damn it, try not to be such an idiot, okay? I'm counting on you," she repeated. "Whether I like it or not."

Tracey arrived shortly after Harry, and he shared the good news with her—they were in for a relatively calm day as long as Daphne was around.

Around eight-thirty, Padma finally showed up. Harry was busy cleaning, making significant progress in removing dust and plaster from a remote corner of the store. Padma fit the stereotype of a stoned chick who recently graduated from Hogwarts and had no intention of going on any internships. Daphne hired her, probably because she thought Padma had an "artistic" vibe. Padma had a few tattoos on her arms and back, depicting peculiar symbols that she claimed were inspired by Nubian hieroglyphs. But calling her an "artist" was like calling Harry a novelist just because he occasionally scribbled feverish notes about his potential Great Novel.

Okay, maybe he sometimes called himself a novelist, but he admitted that he hadn't created anything significant. At least he was honest about it. He had been to a few of Padma's parties and stumbled upon her works. She worked with pastels and oils on thick canvases, but none of her pieces were ever completed. She seemed to jump from one project to another, never focusing on anything long enough to finish it.

On the other hand, Harry's trouble was that he could never even start.

Despite all the artistic shortcomings and a fondness for not-so-legal recreational potions, Padma was thrilled about the collaboration. She was always eager to listen and had no qualms about working shifts as long as she was sober enough to make it to work. Harry couldn't fathom how she managed to maintain a slim figure despite indulging in so many snacks. Dark, short hair framed her face, and a nose piercing gleamed in one nostril, accentuating the charming shape of her nose beneath her sea-green eyes.

That morning, she wore a too-small shirt that made her petite, braless breasts appear even more enticing than ever. After the mind-blowing experience with Tracey the previous night, he quietly hoped that Padma would wear one of her absurd hemp sweaters, but luck wasn't on his side. She wore denim shorts so tiny that the pockets stuck out, brown calf-high leather boots, and a shirt that barely covered her belly button. Harry struggled to keep himself from drooling at the sight.