A Pink Potion

“Shopkeep?” you hear him say, as if weighing whether he should’ve said something else. “I’ve got a uh, question.”

You’re leaning on the counter, grey cleavage on full display, watching as he inspects the potion like some curious ware. It’s always fun. Watching those uninitiated in the magical arts try to dabble in what they don’t know.

You smirk, letting your silver veins pulse brighter. “It’s a lust potion. Gets anyone who drinks it soaked. Or, hard, if they’re a guy.”

He clears his throat. His face is twisted in a strange look. He didn’t expect you to reply like that. But he doesn’t seem all too displeased either.

You step closer, inching towards him. The burly man swallows. He lets his eyes fall over your body, the outline of your curves against the black linen. Standing next to him makes you realise how he’s shaped too. Tall. Broad. And muscled around the legs and arms.

“So, you want it or not?” you ask. “I can’t guarantee it’ll revive a waning marriage, but it should at least guarantee a night of fun.”

You give the potion’s cork a playful tap. A slow, tired smile drags across your face. It seems the man’s settled on this product. But just exactly what is he going to do with it?