“I just been a witness to something sick and sadistic. So twistedly disgusting you should feel real lucky you missed it."

“Say what?”

“Did I stutter?”

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why was I not right then and there dropping trou and whipping out the old throbbing python of love? I mean, in retrospect it’s pretty foolish of me not to have. We’d already fucked, right? I guess at the time I was pretty sure that the previous night was entirely a business arrangement, not something that was going to be repeated. Either that or this was just more hazing.

“No. Really. Is there like, a blood test or something?”

The look of exasperation in those grey eyes must have been the same one I get when trying to explain to a blue collar Trump supporter that the Republican Party hates unions. “Miles… what did we do last night?”

It’s kind of telling that in this day and age my immediate first thought was ‘Oh fuck. She doesn’t remember. I’m going to jail.’ “We… had sex.”

“We had sex. You fucked me silly and choked me while I was cumming my brains out. And why did that happen?”

Because you’re a crazy slut? “Can we just assume that I have absolutely no idea? I’m probably old enough to be your grandfather.”

“First off, take it as a compliment that I would have said Daddy rather than grandfather. You certainly don’t look all that old.” This was true then and it still is. I keep myself in ok shape, beer belly notwithstanding and I’ve aged… well. “Second, we fucked to build power.”

“Again… newbie.”

“Look, magic works on three basic principles; intent, will and power. I’m no good at the scholarly lectures. I wish my grandma were here to explain it like she did for me.” She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs. “Think about it like you would building a fire. You need three things. Fuel, oxygen, and ignition. Eliminate one of those and all you have is either an explosion or a pile of wood. Intent is the ignition. Will is the oxygen. Power is the wood.”

“So sex equals power?”

“Yes and no. Power comes from a release of emotion or a neurotransmitter dump like the endorphin rush you get from an orgasm. What kind of emotion doesn’t matter. So some people use smoking a cigarette. Some people do live sacrifice. My grandmother cooked. I use orgasms.”

“So lemme see if I understand…” I took a sip of my rapidly cooling beverage whilst arranging my thoughts. “We fucked last night so you could use the energy it provided to… hack the wards?”

“Basically. So are you going to get that dad dick of your out or are we going to keep talking?”

“Um…”

“You still need more. Jesus, you must be the only guy in a hundred mile radius who’d hold out this long to avoid getting a blowjob.” She sighed. “Ok. So for me sex and magic are inextricably linked. I’m going to suck you off so I can taste your cum. While I do I’m going to rub one out myself so that when I get that taste I’ll be able to plug it in to what I know and use my own orgasm to analyze it. Seriously. Why is it taking this long to get your pants off?”

So she was either crazy, horny, or both. That’s about when it occurred to me that I was essentially trying to talk my way out of a hummer from a very attractive young lady who was all but begging to take me in her mouth.

So I unzipped.

“About fuckin’ time.”

(Title: “The Devil’s Train” by Lab Rats)