“You and I will have so much fun together,” she says without looking in my direction.
I glance over my shoulder. All I see is the sky. A flock of starlings flies a mile away and disappears into the clouds. There is no one here but she and I.
“Woman,” I say, my voice sharp. “Do you see me?”
“Ooooh.” Her voice becomes breathy. “You’re a most satisfying ride.” She bursts into peals of throaty laughter that almost sound sexual.
“What are you doing?”
She cannot see or hear or sense my presence, yet I have no idea if she is talking to herself or to a being I cannot see. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had cursed someone in her past who has returned to haunt her.
The grandmother continues flying her broomstick, clinging onto it with both hands. She alternates between sliding her clenched hands up and down the broomstick's shaft and grinding her cunt against the wood.
“Are you masturbating with your broomstick?” I ask out loud. “Are you also cursed?”
That is the only explanation. She is an extremely attractive woman, as are all of my wife’s descendants. Any man would be honored to satisfy her needs.
I shake my head. “Or is your hatred toward men so deep that you only find pleasure from inanimate objects?”
The broomstick bucks and she tilts to the side. If I didn’t know any better, I would say it had a mind of its own.
“That’s it,” she says through panting breaths. “Give Grandma a hard ride.”
Just when I think this situation couldn’t get more bizarre, tree sap explodes from the broom’s tip and coats the grandmother’s face.
What in the name of hell?
My wings stiffen, and I have to force them to flap so I can keep my altitude.
“You are a peculiar woman.”
The grandmother clenches her teeth and releases several guttural moans that could only signify an orgasm. I am confused about what she’s doing but cannot judge. Moments ago, I was humping the air.
When her breathing slows, she flies down to a small forest on the outskirts of their village. I swoop behind her as far as her protective bubble will allow.
She dismounts, but her legs tremble so hard that she has to brace her hand against a tree.
“It gets better and better, doesn’t it?” she says.
The broomstick floats toward a stream, but the grandmother is too busy with the aftershocks of her orgasm to notice. At this rate, the current will sweep it away.
I chase after the flying object and grab it close to the tip. Magic thrums beneath the wood. My brow furrows. Or is that blood?
“Oh, you naughty boy!”
The grandmother chases after the broomstick, which tries to jerk within my grip. The wretched thing seems alive.
I wait for her protective magic to push me away as she approaches, but it envelops my body with a subtle shimmer.
“Interesting.” I rub my chin with my free hand.
She places her fingers over mine and then pulls her hand away. “What was that?”
“Can you touch me?” I turn to her, my eyes wide.
The grandma smiles down at the broomstick. “Were you thirsty after that ride, sweet boy? I’ll take you home and give you something good.”
I let the bizarre conversation slide away and raise a claw to her shoulder. This is a loophole in their enchantment that gives them protection yet allows them to get close to an enemy to attack.