Magic Show

You stirred your cappuccino, letting the foam swirl, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. Across the table, Talia sipped her black coffee, a glint of amusement dancing behind her eyeliner-framed eyes. Behind her, pinned to the café’s bulletin board, a glossy poster caught your attention — Mistress of Illusion: Eleanor Black, Featuring Assistant Talia Monroe.

Eleanor dominated the image: tall, raven-haired, wrapped in a sleek, high-collared corset and thigh-high boots, her gloved fingers holding a black riding crop like a scepter. Talia stood just behind her, dressed in a velvet mini-dress so tight it looked painted on, her legs encased in sheer stockings, a silver chain linking her choker to Eleanor’s wrist. Both women stared straight into the camera — powerful, commanding, daring you to look away. You didn’t.

"You're doing that thing again," she said, smirking.

"What thing?"

"The intense, broody look. Like you're solving a ****, or deciding whether to ask for my number."

You smirked. "Maybe I'm thinking about doing both. Depends how brave I'm feeling.”

She laughed, light and genuine, and it made your stomach flutter. You’d grown close over the past few months — inside jokes, late-night texts, maybe a little too much flirting. She hadn’t shut you down, but she hadn’t made a move either. You were trying to figure out if that meant go or no.

Today, you felt bold.

"So," you said, pretending to examine the foam of your coffee, "your partner-in-crime. Eleanor. Always dress like she's starring in Fifty Shades of Card Tricks?"

Talia laughed — a short, delighted sound. "She has a brand."

"She definitely has something," you said, flashing a grin. "Still. If it were you standing solo on stage, I doubt anyone would remember the magic part."

She arched an eyebrow. "Flatterer."

"Only telling the truth," you said. "You could stand there holding a traffic cone and I'd swear it levitated."

She gave a small, amused shrug. "Maybe. But Eleanor’s still the real deal. The magic’s not fake."

You laughed, loud enough that a few heads turned. "Sure. It's sleight of hand and a lot of cleavage. They park you next to her so no one’s watching too closely."

Her amusement cooled — just a fraction. Not enough to make you panic. Just enough to make you notice.

"I see," she said quietly, her voice smooth but edged.

You opened your mouth to backpedal — maybe tease it into a joke — but she interrupted you.

She swirled her coffee, looking down at it for a moment, then back at you, that sly glint deepening. "You know," she said lightly, "people like you are our favorite. You come in, arms crossed, smirking, thinking you have it all figured out. And then..." She snapped her fingers, quick and sharp, making you jump slightly. "We show you what real helplessness looks like."

She pulled out something glossy out of her bag and slid it across the table without ceremony.

You looked down.

A flyer. Thick matte-black cardstock, blood-red letters gleaming faintly in the light.

You read:

SKEPTIC NIGHT – ONE NIGHT ONLY

Do you think magic is fake? Are you a non-believer?

Join us for a very special, very adult experience... with the Mistress of Illusion, Eleanor Black, and her Assistant, Talia.

Two rules:

The magician (and women) will do nothing — except by magic.
No. Holds. Barred.
18+ only. Participation required. Terms and conditions apply._

You looked up, smirking. “No holds barred?”

Talia leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee like she had all the time in the world. "Exactly what you're imagining. And probably worse."

You smirked. "Sounds a little kinky for a magic show."

Talia shrugs.

You laughed. “This a real thing?”

“It is. Tomorrow night. Our original ‘skeptic’ bailed. Got scared.”

“That’s not ominous at all.”

“I figured,” she said, tilting her head, “if you’re going to talk shit, you might as well put your body where your mouth is.”

Body? You tried not to squirm. “And what — you want me to sign up?”

“Oh, no. You don’t have to sign anything,” she said with a wink. “I’ll put your name down.”

Something in the way she said it made your skin prickle.

“But hey,” she added, more playfully, “you might get lucky. It is adult night, after all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean…”

She shrugged, lips curling in that maddening half-smile. “Come see for yourself.”

You gave a casual shrug, even as your brain screamed at you to think this through. There was a glint in Talia’s eye you hadn't seen before — something mischievous, almost predatory. It sent a strange thrill down your spine. But backing down now would be... well, admitting you were scared. And you couldn’t have her thinking that.

You tried to sound cocky. “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”